Decisions that I Make
by Wah-Keetcha
Summary: Eliot is the silent enigma, always suspicious and secretive. But when he is injured by a mysterious attacker the group of thieves learn more about the enigmatic man.
1. Chapter 1

Title: **Decisions that I Make**

Rating: **T**

Summary: **Eliot is the silent enigma, always suspicious and secretive. But when he is injured by a mysterious attacker the group of thieves learn more about the enigmatic man. **

Author Note:** first Leverage fic, I am a fan of Eliot and Nate so this fic will mostly focus on their relations. They are ****not a couple****. I don't write yaoi, or smut so this is simply a friendship thing. Enjoy. **

**Chapter One: **The Start

"Mr. Ford, this is Cassandra a nurse at County Emergency room. I was given your number by one of your employees, an Eliot Carmen." I blink as the cheery voice on the other end finishes her greeting. Sitting at the conference table I'm aware of the other members watching me.

"Mr. Ford?" the voice implores and I snap to and answer quickly, casting a glance over at Sophie who the exchanges a look with Hardison.

"Yes, he's one of my men, what happened?" I respond and stand up, walking a few paces away.

"Well sir, it seems Mr. Carmen was injured in a fight of some sort, the local police brought him in. No charges are being pressed and he's ready to be released. He asked us to call you." She explains and I quickly agree

"Yes, I'll be down to get him. I'm heading out now. Thank you very much."

"Your welcome Mr. Ford." She hangs up and I click my phone closed, turning to look at the rest of the group.

"That was County Emergency Room, Eliot got himself into trouble and needs a lift." Sophie gives a small gasp while Hardison shakes his head and snorts

"That man is nothing but trouble." He declares and gets a blank look from Parker and a rolling of the eyes from Sophie. Hardison holds up his arms and stands,

" Listen, ya'll can go down and comfort him and all that, I'm going to stay here and man the fort and all." He walks out, heading for his own office. I frown, the two of them seemed to have been working into a friendship of sorts, but after that display I'm having my doubts.

"Look, I'd like to go, but knowing Eliot he's going to be even less talkative than he already is." Parker says, also standing and giving me a sardonic smirk before exiting in a bit of a skip. Sophie sighs and stands, pulling her jacket off the back of her chair.

"Let's go." She says, already digging in her purse for the keys to her ruby red Mercedes Benz sedan.

"Okay. Let's go get our guy." I agree, a sense of dread building up in my stomach.

County Hospital was just like every other place, a bad smelling sterilized white mess of halls and sick people. The halls are cast in a bright light, making the shadows thieves like Sophie and Eliot thrive in unavailable. Together Sophie and I walk up to the reception desk and wait for the rotund nurse to notice us. She looks up quickly, a cranky expression on her face as she asks what she can do for us.

"I was called about a friend of mine. Eliot Carmen." Her eyes light up at the other man's name.

"Ah yes, the charmer. He's in exam 6." She points down the hall and my eyes take in the bold six plastered to the wall beside the door. I smile and thank the woman, trying to catch up with a concerned Sophie. I couldn't help but share a smile with the other thief at the mention of Eliot's 'charm'.

"So, what's this I hear about a fight?" I ask sternly coming into the room. I stop mid stride and frown at the long haired man, his chestnut colored hair caked with dried blood from the stitched head wound. Eliot glares at me, his face littered with small cuts and swelling starting to close his left eye. Sophie gasps and moves quickly to the injured man's side, cooing motherly at him.

"Eliot, what happened?" she breathes, accent thick from worry as she tries to touch the man's face. Eliot recoils quickly, a dark look coming to his eyes that Sophie notices and accepts, backing off.

"Thanks for coming." Rough as always Eliot's soft voice sounds weary and the exhaustion is evident on his face. I'm about to comment when a knock at the doorway grabs my attention. I turn, finding a small woman dressed in scrubs standing there.

"You must be Mr. Ford." She presumes and I nod, holding my hand out for the clipboard with the obvious discharge papers on it. She pulls the clipboard back to her chest and motions for me to follow her outside. I glance quickly back over at Sophie and catch the Grifter's eye. Without a thought Sophie nods and stands, fluttering about the small room, gathering up the few personal items Eliot had on his persons and helping the injured man to his feet.

In the hallway the small nurse leans against the wall, examining the clipboard once more.

"What are his instructions?" I ask

"Well, Mr. Ford your friend was brought in with numerous head abrasions, the deep wound on his forehead, we think, came from hitting a hard surface. His glasses were broken, causing the smaller abrasions. His eye will return to normal in a few days, ice it every four hours. We gave him some medication for the headache and the doctor prescribed some painkillers." She hands me the two prescription slips, I fold them neatly and put them in my jacket pocket.

"Two ribs were broken in the fight and he managed to dislocate his shoulder. He managed to put that back into place before arriving here."

"Yes, that's an old injury." I clearify and the nurse looks about ready to wrap up when I ask

"What was his blood alcohol level?" I keep my tone low and hushed. The nurse looks confused and looks down at her chart.

"Mr. Ford, there was no alcohol in his blood. Mr. Carmen was completely sober during these events." I nod my thanks and the nurse turns, heading back to the desk. I sigh anf run a hand through my hair, heading back into the room.

"Ready to go?" I ask and Eliot nods, standing on his own but swaying slightly before regaining his balance. Sophie and I walk on either side of the man, there in case he should need the aid. Eliot, surprisingly makes it to the car under his own free will and reclines in the backseat, arms curled around his injured ribs. Exchanging worried looks with Sophie I nod my head and the con-woman eases her car out into the traffic.

**Author note: **That's the first chapter. Thanks for viewing. Please review and let me know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Decisions that I Make

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** Eliot is the silent enigma, always suspicious and secretive. But when he is injured by a mysterious attacker the group of thieves learn more about the enigmatic man.

**Author Note: **As requested by numerous people, an update. Thanks to all those who have reviewed and told me what they think, I appreciate it a lot. Please enjoy this chapter!

**Chapter two: Sanctuary **

With a short stop over at a Pharmacy Sophie pulled her car into the parking spot behind the office building. I casually look back and find Eliot's face impassively blank, his dark eyes unfocused on something he can only see. A frown creases his face and suddenly he's _back_ with us, awareness coming slowly back into his eyes.

"Thanks for the lift." He says simply and pulls the handle and maneuvers himself out, trying desperately to hold the winces from view. Eliot stands and I run a critical eye over the man, his stance although strong wavers periodically and that worries me. He begins to walk away and I quickly bid Sophie good-night and exit the vehicle.

"Nate!" she calls from the inside of her Benz, dark eyes worried as she quickly states

"Don't push him; don't let that devious mind of your think you'll get what happened out of him. I can guarantee he'll just clam up harder and not even my sly tongue will get him to give in." I nod, silently thanking Sophie for her abilities and turning. Catching up to Eliot was no problem, seeing as he has to wait for the elevator to open. I slide into the lift behind him, keeping silent and crossing my arms. The silence that surrounds the smaller man isn't an uncomfortable one but neither is it welcoming of conversation. I stay silent, watching the floors buzz by until finally the lift stops with a jerk. Casually casting a glance over at the other man I watch him run a hand through his matted hair, finding the sticky mess distasteful and then wiping the moist blood on his dirty blue jeans. Without a glance back Eliot makes his way to the main door to the offices, pausing briefly outside the door before entering. As I had figured the others had already left for the night, leaving only the small end table lamp lit.

"Let me just get my bag and I'll be ready to go." I call out to the retreating form and watch as Eliot pauses and then turns back around.

"Go where?" the worn voice asks, a hint of pain coming through. Knowing I was in for an argument I steel my resolve and tread closer to the Retrieval Specialist. The suspicion in the already taxed blue eyes heighten a notch.

"The doctor left orders for you not to be alone. I figured I might as well take you home to either my place or yours. Whichever I'll be staying over to assure your welfare." Eyes widen and his mouth moves into a stubborn frown.

"I don't need _anyone_ to look out for me." He seethes and spins on his heel, a maneuver that must have sent considerable pain through his injured torso and heads for his office. I quickly follow, unsure if I can stop the martial artist or not, but determined to try. I peer into the dimmed office, finding Eliot shoving a few items into a carry bag and grabbing his helmet. I resist the urge to put in the jibe about his choice of headgear, knowing that the comment would only make him angrier.

"I don't know about that Eliot, you seemed to have taken real good care of yourself tonight, so good in fact you ended up in the hospital and needed to call _me_ to get you out." I state evenly and the anger seems to blaze behind the blue eyes before dying abruptly, leaving the man searching the ground.

"Fine, one night. My place. No exceptions." He snarls and agree to the terms, worried now to see the usually stubborn and headstrong man cave in so easily. I glance him up and down once more before nodding and quickly heading for my office, not putting it beyond Eliot to sneak out of here. If he sneaks out it's not like I can easily track him down, I have no idea as to where he lives.

"All set?" he asks, standing by the main door to the office. I nod and pull my keys out, dangling them and smiling

"Lucky you, you get to ride in the new car."

"as long as I don't have to wind the sucker up, or push it down a hill." He shoots back, for a moment the Eliot from this morning coming into the light. I smile slightly and usher him out the door, closing the office and hitting the alarm button on my key chain.

Another gift from Hardison.

"Let's go." I state coolly and in the lead I head back to the lift. We are thrown back into the silence that accompanied our ascent.

++!!++

"Take the first left." I easily maneuver the electric car onto the street indicated by the injured thief. The looming warehouses swallow my car, making me glance up and around, almost waiting for the inevitable sneak attack.

"I'm the third garage door on the right." Eliot says softly and I gently pull up to the door. From his carry bag Eliot pulls out a key ring and presses one of the small black pieces. Nearly without sound the silver door opens and I gently ease the car inside the garage. A series of overhead lights come on, illuminating the interior and I can't help but be a little shocked.

"You can just park it here." Eliot says and I stop, still scanning the interior of the garage and drop the transmission into park. Without a word Eliot gets out and heads for the lift at the rear of the garage, a hand pressed to his injured ribs.

"Are these all yours?" I ask, feeling stupid as the long haired man shoots me a look.

"Yeah, all mine." He admits and pulls the safety gate open. I am quick to follow, taking a stance inside the lift I can't help but gawk at the collection of Motorcycles and jacked up trucks.

My car looks pathetically small compared to them.

The lift stops at the floor above the garage and I'm unsure of what to expect as Eliot pulls back the safety gate and enters the dimly lighted room. I smile slightly suddenly aware that at Eliot has a light of some sort at all times. I'm inclined to wonder why but my mind's questions are put on the back burner as I take my first look at the apartment.

It's an open concept, a loft to my right and an step down living room to my left. Straight ahead is the kitchen, again no walls separating each room, just creative placing of furniture or fixtures to signal the changing of the room. The woods are hardwood and many of the beams making up the loft are the old style heavy tongue and groove beams found in homes built prior to the 1900's.

Everything is _clean_.

Without a second look back Eliot tosses his bag over against the wall and heads for the kitchen, turning up the lights as he goes. Feeling awkward I hesitate by the door.

"You can sit down Nate, make yourself comfortable. Since I have only a one bedroom place and you're insisting on staying here you'll be camping out on the couch." Eliot remarks before turning around

"This is the kitchen, you want something get it. I'm not going to wait on ya." He clarifies and I shoot back

"Wouldn't expect you too. Here are your meds." I tell him, pulling the two prescription bottles from my blazer pocket. With a look of pure disgust Eliot steps closer and takes the two bottles out of my hand, clicking the pills inside, a thoughtful look on his face before nodding.

"Okay, there are spare blankets in that closet, bathroom is just under there" he points to an area beneath the loft area, a basic brown door in a seemingly endless space. I nod and watch as the man goes back to the lift. With deft movements Eliot locks the lift and shuts down the power to it, no one can get in or out.

"TV has On Demand, almost all the channels are available. Free movies and all. Feel free to wonder around." With that he heads for the kitchen, pill bottles still in hand. With a sigh I toss my carry bag over onto the couch and kick off my shoes, removing the blazer I follow after him, intent to find out what the man has in his fridge for drinks.

"What are you doing there?" I ask curiously as I open the fridge and look inside. Budweiser mostly but the occasional juice bottle pops up beside the milk container. Frowning, beer not to my liking I stand up and close the fridge, Eliot shoots me a look.

"Your not going to find anything but beer in there, the hard stuffs in the cabinet behind me, left side." He says as he goes back to splitting the pills, concentration making his face crease. Not feeling up for a drink I turn my attention back to what Eliot was doing.

"Now, again, what are you doing?" I'm not letting him get away with this strange quirk of his. Now I don't know much about Eliot, other than he's a skilled Retrieval Specialist who isn't a violent person by nature but has to problem kicking anyone butt.

"Percasets dull my reflexes and make me less aware. So, I'm getting rid of them." He says simply, taking the remnants of the narcotics and sweeping them into his hand before dumping the down the drain, with a quick flick of the wrist the water is turned on and down the drain the white pills melt.

"Wait…." I try to stop him from dumping the pills of antibiotic that they had given him for his head wound but Eliot only glares at me, his swollen eye completely closed.

"I'm allergic to Penicillin. Besides, who prescribes Antibiotic for a head wound?" he scoffs and dumps those in the trash. Finishing with that he reaches into the freezer and pulls out a bag of frozen peas and then grabs a bottle of water

" Now, I'm going to go and lay down. Feel free to do whatever." He says simply and makes his way to the stairs to the loft. No lights come on up in the room, but I can hear the sounds of changing and the bed spread being pulled back.

"Well, it is getting late. Good night Eliot." I call up, slightly annoyed.

"Yeah, 'night Nate." The husky voice calls back.

Then all is silent.

Oh this is going to be just wonderful.

**Author Note:** Again, thank you to all who have reviewed, I appreciate it. The next chapter should be a bit more interesting as Nate will attempt to figure more out about his fellow thief. Again, thank you very much and I'll update again soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Decisions that I Make

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** Eliot is the silent enigma, always suspicious and secretive. But when he is injured by a mysterious attacker the group of thieves learns more about the enigmatic man.

**Author Note: **So, just to clarify some things

I do a lot of research on the characters before I even start outlining a plot, so I know that although Christian Kane is a cook, so isn't Eliot, but this has yet to be seen on the show, so therefore I may hint at it but not go out of my way to put that fact into the story. I also know he is a singer and same with the cooking thing, it has yet to be seen on the show (by the way he is a wicked good singer) Call me lazy or whatever but I try to keep my tale-spinning to a minimum, figure I mess with everything else!

Also, I figured that if Eliot's a criminal, he's probably wanted and since he was brought in by the Police they undoubtedly checked for a record, so I switched Spencer for the alias name. I also, as you will find out believe that Spencer is an alias as well and am going to play off that. I have a friend who is a Criminal Justice major who once said that many criminals, while keeping their first name will change their last to protect their true identity and any family they have.

Antibiotic for a head wound, well I work with horses for a living and a co-worker was knocked off his feet and managed to open a long gash on his head (don't ask me how he did that) and at the hospital they said they will usually give antibiotic to people who sustained their injuries and in a filthy place (like a stable) to help combat any microbes that might have gotten into the wound. Therefore it was a badly placed hint as to where Eliot was attacked. Very badly placed I see now but regardless it was a hint!

In my own mind (which is a freaky place let me tell ya) I see Eliot as a 'good-old boy' not truly a red-neck type (no offence to any southern state based readers, I am a northern myself) but he does have a quite southern quality to him even though it seems he is fairly worldly, his choice of profession taking him around the world. Also he seems like a smart man although in 'The Bank Shot Job' he called himself 'dense' so I don't really know what to do with that but that's how I see him. Just a good-old boy who is _really, really_ good at what he does and enjoys doing it.

Again, thank you to those who have reviewed and I hope no one took my above statements as being rude, there weren't meant to be, just informative and I have been told that I can sound pretty rude sometimes. So, again, it wasn't meant to be rude or snarky.

Enough of my useless rambling. Onto the fic!

**Chapter three: **Foolish Pride

A loud curse echoes through the sleep induced fog, bringing me more forcefully to awareness. I blink, tensing automatically as my blurry eyes take in a ceiling I don't recognize. Bringing my hand slowly up to rub at my eyes I take the moment to let my mind play catch-up with my body. Finally I reopen my eyes and look around, finding the back of the green sofa vaguely familiar. I sigh and look around, finding myself staring at a mahogany coffee table and several book cases.

Light dawns over Marble head.

I'm in Eliot's apartment.

Another curse, this time more clear than the last resounds from the loft area. With quick movements I stumble, still barely awake, over to the stairs leading to the loft area. My mind whirling as to what might be happening, trying to piece together how anyone could have gotten into the apartment…. I stop at the top landing and try my hardest not to laugh.

"Son of a bitch." Eliot mumbles, a forearm thrown over his face and his breathing ragged. I let the long haired man calm down a bit before I approach, knowing that although he might be pretty banged up Eliot Spencer could probably still break something valuable.

"What happened?" I question softly, coming closer to the bed. I frown at the rumpled sheets and sweat soaked pillow. The bandages holding the injured ribs have come loose, exposing the badly bruised flesh of his abdomen. Mottled bruises of dark purple and black surround his shoulder, the arm still by his side.

"You stiffened up didn't you?" I ask and for a moment only the ragged breathing of the other man responds before the pain filled voice growls

"Help me up or get out." The arm is removed from his face and I wince in sympathy at the swelling around his eye, the one blue eye glares steadily at me. With a nod I reach out both hands and wait for him to clasp them. Eliot's hands are unique in the way that they are not _large_ hands. One would think that being a fighter would lead to his hands being much larger than normal but this is not the case. To keep from starring at the injured man's face, finding it an invasion of his well kept privacy I examine the scarred knuckles and previously broken fingers. I wince slightly as Eliot tightens his grip, for being deceptively small all around Eliot Spencer possesses a lot of _strength_.

"Ready?" I ask, knowing from experience how badly a stiffened torso accompanied by broken ribs can be. With a tense nod, the cords in his neck standing out he uses my arms as leverage to haul himself up.

"Ahhhh shit." He breathes hard, wincing and pressing a hand to the injured ribs. His face is pale from the pain and the shoulder length hair is messed up, still caked with the dried blood. Worry settling deep in my stomach I kneel down, trying to catch the other man's eye. The blue orb is clouded with pain but seems to snap too and flares with life.

"I need a shower." He states shakily and hauls himself to his feet. Leaning on the bedside table he staggers to the steps and holds tightly onto the railing, slowly making his way down. I trail after him, mostly to make sure he doesn't fall or something, but then again heckling him is also fun.

"Bet your wishing you didn't get rid of those pain-killers huh?" I ask, standing behind him. Eliot stops, his back tensing at the words. Slowly and stiffly Eliot turns

"This, I can deal with. Having a narcotic induced hang-over isn't just bad for me but it also puts everyone around me in danger." He snaps and stalks to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. I blow out a sigh and turn around, knowing that the cleaning process might take a while I decide to see what the man has decorating his home.

Maybe something will give me a tip as to how to deal with him.

**(Eliot) **

Hot water is a good thing for stiff muscles, much like a cold substance is good for swelling. Standing under the spray I gently prod the swelling around my eye and hiss as my fingers hit a tender spot. My ribs protest every movement and my shoulder screams at being forced to move. Gently I wash the blood from my hair and clean up, knowing from the condition of my jeans I managed to get fairly dirty and after last night I'm not surprised I have a bit of a scent. Pressing my palms against the tile I lean foreword, centering my mind to ignore my body's protests.

"How did he find me?" I ask, voice drowning in the spray of hot water. I rack my brain, knowing I covered my trail on the last few jobs I did, even the ones I worked on with the others. When you look over your shoulder it's a hard habit to break even when you're surrounded by people who you think you can trust. The water turns suddenly cold, and my thought process is brought to a quick end. Stepping out of the shower I run a hand over the fogged mirror.

I wince at the person that looks back at me.

The gash above my eye is stitched together with neat black string, the edges of the wounds red and weeping slightly. The smaller cuts caused by the breaking of my glasses upon impact with the wall I was thrown into. My shoulder is all bruised and slightly swollen while my entire torso is a collection of unique mottled bruises. I scoff at myself, repeating the words that flooded through my head that very night

"You're getting soft."

And damn it shows.

**(Nate) **

For this being his home Eliot has very little personal items. A few photographs here and there, a low bookcase containing multiple books sits under the flat screen TV and I bend to look at the spines.

Well, this figures

Most of the thick books shelved there are about a variety of countries and regions. Some are dedicated to motorcycles and a few truck manuals but other than that no personal reading items.

"Well that doesn't help." I sigh and stand up again, an old photograph catching my eye. I step closer to the faded image, examining the cracked and unclear photograph. Picking up the frame I smile slightly, recognizing the piercing eyes of the now adult Eliot as a child. He was a small kid in this image, barely twelve I would figure and he's got his arms propped up on a older Chevy truck door, his face stern as he gazes into the camera. Leaning against the side, an arm reaching over the door was another stern faced man wearing a light cowboy hat. Even at that young age Eliot Spencer was a closed off book, his eyes filled with suspicion and thinly veiled contempt.

"That's my father and I, back when I was a kid." Eliot's rough voice informs from behind me and I whirl around to face him. Dressed only in the pants he wore to sleep in his hair is plastered back and a towel surrounds his shoulders. I frown at the lack of bandages and then wince at the numerous pale colored scars, marks of the trade.

"Stop staring." He snaps and heads for the stairs to his room, taking them two at a time.

"So, how old were you in this picture?" I call up and there's a long pause before he answers

"I was twelve. That photo was taken at our farm a year before it was repossessed by the bank." He says, the sound of a drawer closing signaling his changing.

"Where was it, your farm?" I ask, curious now as to the origins of the enigmatic thief.

"Oklahoma." I nod, that makes sense.

"Are you set with the bathroom? I'd like to get cleaned up." I call and an affirmative grunt is all I get in response. With a final look at the picture I place it carefully back on the shelf and grab my bag.

Much to think about.

**Author note:** so I did my own research and I'm putting Eliot at the same age as the actor which would be 35. Also Kane's family lived in OK when he was a kid, so I figured I'd just go with it. Anyway, the next chapter will be up in a few days. Thanks for reading and thanks for reviewing! 


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **Decisions that I Make

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** Eliot is the silent enigma, always suspicious and secretive. But when he is injured by a mysterious attacker the group of thieves learns more about the enigmatic man.

**Author Note: **Like I said before, I do research on the people before I start writing. I also don't trust the Leverage Wiki page, simply because it says that Eliot Spencer is speculated to have done stuff for the military during the Vietnam War, which makes no sense since the war ended in 1975 and Christian Kane was born in 1974. So, I'm pretty sure the show's creators aren't going to make him a Vietnam Vet with an aging issue. Also it says about him returning to Kentucky after the 'war' he was in and taking up a horse job, well should that be true where did he live before the war that he's far to young to have been any help in? Also, how would a 'fan' page have any real info from the creators? Just asking, not judging but simply I think it's crap the stuff they have up here.

Okay, I'm done. Onto the fic.

Thanks to those who have reviewed, I appreciate it.

**Chapter Four: Snapped **

"Ya know Eliot, I was thinking…" I stop, stepping into the empty front room and rub the towel around on my head. The apartment is silent except for the soft ring of a cellular phone. Above me I hear a soft curse and then Eliot's clipped question.

"What Sam?" There is a long pause and the sounds of boots on the floor above me, a straight line, five paces to the left, pause, and five paces to the right, pause again then repeat.

Pacing. Who would have figured Eliot Spencer, the unflappable young fighter, the man who doesn't blink as a gun is pointed at him cocked and ready to fire, paces.

I sure as hell didn't.

I listen carefully from under the loft's overhang, the low and husky voice raised occasionally.

"Jesus Christ Sam, I told ya I'm not tellin' ya where I'm at." He snaps and I can hear the thinly veiled anger and annoyance, two more emotions rarely shown, in his voice.

"Keep your preachin' sis, I don't wanna hear it." Then with an annoyed growl the phone is thrown from the loft and lands on the carpet of the sitting area, a lucky phone or an unconsciously well-placed throw. I listen for a few more minutes and am about to reopen the bathroom door when Eliot's voice washes down from the loft.

"I know your there Nate." Knowing I can't lie to the retrieval specialist I step out from under the loft, towel held in one hand as I look up. Leaning against the railing Eliot stares down, his pale blue eyes staring right at me, long hair spilling over his shoulders to frame his face. Worry lines etched into his tired face make him seem much older than his thirty-five years, dark circles under the eyes tell me he's not feeling well, but I realize now there is very little I can do about it. Eliot Spencer is a loner, pure and simple and the secrets he keeps will remain with him till the day he dies and as a rule of survival he doesn't let _anyone_ help him.

"So, who is Sam?" I ask.

I don't care what he 'use' to be, Eliot is a member of my team and at the moment he looks like he needs help. Eliot frowns down at me before a small smile splits his lips and he chuckles softly.

"My married lover." And retreats back further into the loft. I shake my head

"Really? You call all your date's 'sis'? What's that? A turn on?" I call up and turn around, digging in my pack for my toothbrush and other toiletries needed to get ready for the office. I turn back, intent of heading for the bathroom again but stop quickly as my heart skips a few beats in my chest. Eliot's standing behind me, the sly grin still in place but they eyes are cold.

"Drop it Nate." He says coolly and I can practically _feel_ the icy threat behind his words. I raise both hands in a gesture of peace, still gripping the tooth brush and razor with my thumbs and nod

"Alright, alright." I agree and with a final look Eliot walks away, his socked feet making no sound on the hardwood floor. I blow a breath out through my lips and then turn, knowing I'm going to either be running for my life in a moment or facing angry silence.

"What was she trying to say before you cut her off?" Eliot stops, hand on the fridge's pull, back tensing beneath the dark blue button down. I can see the wheels working in his mind, one side arguing with the other.

Should he tell me? Should he not tell me?

Oh the decisions.

I wait patiently, having learned long ago while still chasing small time thieves for the agency that the fastest way to get a confession out of someone is to let them decide if it's a good idea. Men like Eliot don't just give up anything and while most people think the long haired man to be fairly simple of mind I know different. The man kept sealed behind the rough southern accent and cool, cowboy charm is just as cunning, manipulative and calculating as any other man who spent his life doing what Eliot's done. Oh no, if Eliot really wanted to he could play a dangerous head game with me, but he knows it won't work, having been on the inside of many jobs put forth by my planning he has had an inside look into my mind.

"She thinks that if she preaches to me, it might turn me around." He snorts and turns, blue eyes looking straight at me a serious amount of suspicion still swimming within the blue.

"Ah… so she's the bossy type?" I ask and watch the body language of the man before me as he turns back to the fridge and pulls the door open and takes the juice container out. I wince slightly, tomato juice.

"Aren't all older siblings?" he asks, taking a massive gulp off the bottle.

"Well yeah, I guess. Of course I would have guessed that she would have taught you not to drink from the bottle." I snark and Eliot shoots me a withering look, a smile expanding his face.

"Hey, I saw that look. You weren't going to be drinking any." He states before swallowing another gulp and recapping it and replacing it back into the fridge.

" So, when you said your nephew would have liked Bible-Topia, you weren't just…" I trail off, trying to come up with something

"Saying it to say something? No, Sam is my older sister and she has a son named Daniel. They live in Kentucky with some preacher she married and seems to believe that the world is just and good. Ya know, like most of the people out there. She walks through life with blinders on." He smirks then and turns away, grabbing something from a cabinet and moving down to the toaster. Knowing that this conversation has come to an effective end and pick up my things to finish getting ready for work.

This puzzle just keeps getting more and more pieces.

**(Eliot) **

I have to say, although it's a car Nate's little electric vehicle is nice. It rides nice and smooth and that's a good thing considering on the way to office we hit construction. In one of my pick ups I would have been drying tears from my eyes due to the jolting pain that would have been sent from my ribs.

The sound system's nice too.

Although the soothing melody of the classic rock keeps the silence between us from developing into awkwardness it does very little to stop the memories, plans and general confusion from chasing themselves around in my head. The call from Sam this morning threw me for a loop, her being the last person I expected to hear from. Don't get me wrong, my sister is a good person, caring and honest. But if she knew what I do for a living, if she knew what I've _done_ she'd go insane. The righteous people in this world can't tolerate what goes on in the shadows of their perfect world and why should they?

"So, your sister…" Nate starts having pulled up to a stop signal with that open ended question I feel the anger bubble up and finally snap. I slam my hand into the door, feeling the plastic beneath my fist flex ever so slightly and I smile at that.

"Listen Nate, what do you want to know? Huh? That my sister calls me every now and then, wanting to deliver me from the life I've chosen? What? That after having my ass kicked by some Canadian behemoth with a grudge I'm a bit phased? What do you fucking want from me!?" I snarl and run an angry hand through my hair, sweeping it back out of my face. Nate simply gapes at me, hands on the steering wheel of his expensive car and eyes wide. I curse at myself and grab my carry bag from the floor. Tugging the handle I shove the door open and escape the interior of the car. Slamming the door sends jolts of pain through my body which makes my aching chest protest loudly but I don't care. Tossing the carry bag's strap over a shoulder I stalk away from the stopped car, as quick as I can.

**Author Note: **Don't worry; Sam isn't going to be making an OC appearance. I wouldn't do that to you people, she's just mentioned. Anyway I know he's a caring guy and all that, but even the caring guys get pissed. And I think that's where I'm heading, so stick with me.

I'm pretty excited for next week's episode though, I mean did you all see how smokin' he looked in the chef uniform? Anyway, please review. I'm going to try and start answering them so don't be surprised if you see something in your in box from me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: **Decisions that I Make

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** Eliot is the silent enigma, always suspicious and secretive. But when he is injured by a mysterious attacker the group of thieves learns more about the enigmatic man.

**Author Note: **When I thought about breaking out of my usual fandom's I have to say I was slightly nervous since the other times I branched away from my norm it didn't go so well, but I'm loving this section and think I'll stick around here a while. So, I hope you kind folks will continue to read this fic.

Also, I can't write Parker. I really can't. I don't know what it is but for some reason she turns out either to a complete ditz or evil. I dunno and I don't want to shame her unique character so that's why she doesn't play a massive role in this. I will work on it though, it's a challenge I'm finding exciting.

Alright, I'm done. Onto the fic!!

**Chapter Five: Narrow **

" Hardison, I need you to track down Eliot." I call as I move through the office. From the corner of my eye I see the hacker roll his way into the doorway, a headset on and a voice receiver pressed to his mouth.

"I thought he was with you?" he asks and I throw my arms up in defeat.

"He was, but I managed to chase him off." I conclude and head for the coffee maker. Although Eliot's place was stocked with food, beer, hard liquor and everything else, he lacked the essential to life. Coffee. Pushing the cup into the dispenser I watch as the black liquid tries to _pour _from the pot.

"Who made the coffee?" I snap suddenly and look out to where the officers are. From her office I can see Parker peeking around the door jam, a sheepish look on her face. I cock and eyebrow and gesture to the pot of black sludge and the blond shrugs

"Hey, if you wanted good Coffee than you should have brought Eliot with you." She says sternly, a frigid expression on her face. I watch as she turns sharply on her heel and heads back to her office. Hardison enters the room his phone clutched in his hand and muttering darkly at it.

"Wha….?" I attempt but the computer hacker cuts me off

"So, I called his cell right? Yeah well he answered and told me to 'fuck off' before hanging up." He growls and leans against the counter.

"Can you track him?" I ask and suddenly feel very stupid as the dark skinned man gives me a sardonic look.

"Can I track him? Please. That's where he's at." He says and pushes a button. The phone on my hip chimes and I pull it out of the holder, looking at the address. I nod, having heard of the place before.

"So, when are we going to go get him?" Hardison asks and I look at the man before saying slowly

"We need to let him calm down. Wait for Sophie to get here. In the meantime I want you to look up something. While in the car, before he got out Eliot mentioned something called a Canadian Behemoth. Can you maybe see what that is? Or who it is?" Hardison's eyes widen slightly before he nods and heads back to his office. With that done I grab one of the legal pads and head for my own office, knowing that until Eliot's had time to cool down he won't even let me near him, never mind the others.

Besides, he won't be going anywhere, not after I place a phone call to an old friend.

**(Eliot) **

My ribs are protesting loudly as I maneuver my way through the packed streets. Many of the travelers don't pay me much mind but there is an occasional glance at my face, the swelling and marks from the pervious fight. I stare coldly ahead, projecting my bad mood like a plague. Without really thinking of where I was going I move my way out of the main crowd and down into the back ally's, heading in a west ward direction. The street traffic begins to thin out and fewer people stare at the swelling bruise on my face. In this area a person walking down the street covered in bruises is a normal occurrence. I don't really know where I'm headed, just away. Away from Nate and his questions, away from Sophie and her understanding compassion, away from Parker and her quirky ability to see beyond the shields and away from Hardison, that man is too smart, too good for his own good.

Just away.

Without noticing the ground beneath my boots changed from the hard cement of the city to the soft, plush grass of a forgotten park. I stop just inside the gate to the land and look around. Unkempt and forgotten due to budget cuts weeds have over taken the flower beds and the playground is rusted over. It's obvious few people come here and judging by the graffiti decorating the few buildings those that do come aren't the most upstanding people. I'm about to turn back and resume my walk when sharp pains take my breath away, ribs screaming in protest of so much tension. With a hiss I find a bench and sit heavily down upon it, hand clutching at the injured side.

"Shit." I snarl softly angry more at myself for allowing the situation to get this far out of control. In the past when that idiot caught up with me I could easily escape, pack up my shit and be gone. But now, now I have other people to worry about. Parker, Hardison, Sophie and Nate, over the past few months of working with them I've come to respect them. Doesn't mean I like them, just saying that I respect them for their abilities. It's much harder now to just pick up roots and escape to someplace else. That and I'm sick of running, always being a transplant.

"Hey, what's a white boy like you doing on _our _turf?" I'm jolted from my thoughts by the clipped question. Cursing myself for having been caught off guard out in the open I watch the approaching thugs suspiciously.

"Whooo damn boy, someone beat down on you good." The one in the lead comments, his slicked back hair and overly large clothing suggesting his involvement in a gang. Oh and of course the pants, which hang down below the man's waist. His two buddies flanking him are dressed in the same fashion, their faces drawn into a comically threatening scowl.

"Listen boys, I was just resting. Now I'm going to leave." I state simply, getting up from the bench without a grimace even though my ribs scream in protest. One lesson taught to me long ago is to never show your weakness to your opponent.

"oh you ain't leavin'." The leader remarks coolly, signaling his buddies with a nod of his head. I examine their transition from 'threatening from behind' to 'threatening on the sides' and I must say, I'm not impressed.

"Not till ya pay the toll cracka'" I smile at the name, vaguely remembering a time when I was first called that by one of the workers on a farm my father and I worked on. I shake off the memory, not finding it a fond one and smile coolly at the three wanna be gangsters.

"I must inform you, should you go through with this you will regret it." I inform but they only laugh.

"Your out numbered. One white bitch against three of us? Psst, your going down." Leader remarks and with the ease of any person not getting involved nods his head. Being the good trained house pets they are they both charge as one, the first one tries to take me out with a wild punch thrown at my blind eye, I duck under his swing and bring my own fist crashing into his abdomen. Stunning the first thug I whirl and bring my leg into his friend's groin area. The second thug drops like a stone, holding his package and crying on the ground. With a heave of my shoulder I send the first attacker sprawling into the dirt. Yet there is little time to revel in the triumph of taking down the two as their leader, trying to save face in front of his cohorts comes at me, his hand clutching a knife. I give a small laugh, feeling the release of pent up frustration and anger as my fists make contact with the other's chest. My shoulder still isn't back to full strength because instead of stumbling back the thug uses the momentum of my foreword motion to bring the knife down in a vicious arc. Seeing the aim of the weapon I spin away but not before the knife slices through my forearm, leaving a bleeding gash. I curse and stumble away a few steps, watching the attacker carefully. Vaguely I hear the sounds of screetching tires and shouts but I don't see anything other than the thug intent on getting to me with that knife.

My whole world is narrowed to the knife wielding thug, my mind warping slightly as the image of the Hispanic thug warps into the face of my previous opponents, all laughing cruelly and eyes wide with murderous joy.

**(Nate)**

My cell phone rings and I quickly tear if from my belt, looking at the name and then flipping it open.

"You might want to get here; your renegade is going berserk on some locals." Then the line dies. I am already tearing through the office heading for the door.

"whoa, hey where ya going?" Hardison asks and I'm halfway out the door by the time I can voice a reply.

"Eliot's in trouble." I hear stumbling and a curse as Hardison sprints to keep up with me. The door is about to close on the elevator when he slips through narrowly escaping getting a limb caught.

"what do you mean by trouble?" Hardison asks, a bit annoyed but worry lining the hacker's voice. I can't explain and only make a quick few steps to the black panel van. Turning over the engine and popping the car into gear I peel out, heading for the location Hardison tells me.

__

We arrive at the park and from where I stop the car I can see the fight going on. Several locals are gathered around, their shouts ranging from 'call the cops' to 'get him!'. Without waiting I push my way through the crowd, elbowing people in the sides till I can get through, shouting the long haired man's name. Hardison takes up the rear, his voice also shouting above the calls of the locals. In the distance I can hear the sirens of approaching police but I can't seem to worry about that now. Eliot is standing, tensed and ready as his attacker prepares to lunge foreword. I wince at the blood dripping from the wound on his arm and shout once more.

"Eliot! Don't do it!" but he doesn't seem to hear me. Hardison watches the scene beside me, his eyes wide with shock and a bit of awe as the fight plays out. The attacker lunges once more, the sharp knife blade aiming for Eliot's chest, intent on killing him. Eliot, not unschooled in the art of combat sidesteps easily and brings a fisted hand around, catching the thug in the back of the neck. I watch as the thug, phased and dizzy from the attack only whirls around, shaking his head he comes back at Eliot's unprotected side. He must have been suspecting that type of move because in one swift movement Eliot's got his thickly muscled arm around the other's throat, catching him and a chokehold. Blue eye blazing with anger and body pumping with adrenaline Eliot savagely chokes the man down to the ground. The knife drops from nerveless fingers as the thug passes out but Eliot refuses to let go. I rush foreword and grab onto the taught forearm, trying to work it free before the choking turns into death.

"Eliot, let him go!" Hardison shouts, punching down on the other arm, away from the vicious slice.

"Hardison, hit his ribs!" I snap and watch the indecision flash across the other's face.

"Do it." I breath and closing his eyes and licking his lips Hardison winds up and lands a balled fist into the long haired man's side. That does the trick, the vicious blue eye closes as an animalistic cry is let loose and Eliot releases his hold to grasp at his own midsection. I let the thug fall boneless to the ground and turn my attention to the other man, finding his face screwed up from the pain.

"We gotta get outta here." Hardison informs and I nod, grabbing Eliot's free arm I haul him to his feet. The crowd moves quickly out of our way as we head for the van. Depositing the barely conscious body into the back of the van I jump into the driver's seat, without a look back I peel away from the scene. Hardison is in the back with Eliot and I can hear the other curse

"Well, this isn't good." He says, dark eyes catching mine as I look in the rearview mirror.

"Yeah. I know." But I don't know what to do about it.

**Author Note: **so I know a lot of people are probably going to say ' that's not what he would do!' but I think that if a person who is under much stress is pushed to the limit and is trained like Eliot, yeah I think it could happen. Also I didn;t want to single out any kind of race for my little thugs and if my description insulted you I am sorry. Anyway I'll update again soon. Thanks so much for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: **Decisions that I Make

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** Eliot is the silent enigma, always suspicious and secretive. But when he is injured by a mysterious attacker the group of thieves learns more about the enigmatic man.

**Author Note: **I know I don't have to explain the reasoning behind what I type, but it is a habit of mine when I enter a new fandom. I dunno why I do it, but I will try to curb it. On that note I managed to find a behind the scenes thing on the tube and got some info about Eliot straight from the horses mouth. This is what I got out of it: Eliot's background is unknown but it's most definitely military of some kind, he's pissed off at the world until he gets into a fight, then he's calm and focused. Although he's the most grounded of the group he is very much a loner and can't stand the people he has to work with. Pretty much he's pissed off because of some reason and has always worked alone for some reason but I also find him to be loyal, like during the Bank Shot Job, he was all set to kick the door down and beat down the two robbers.

I dunno about you folks but I find that very interesting.

Onto the chapter. I hope you all enjoy it.

**Chapter six: Explaining **

"_Eliot, I need you to listen to me son." I look at my father as the tall man kneels down in front of me, his cracked and calloused hands gripping my shoulders. I smell the heavy liquor on his breath, Jack Daniels leaves a sharp odor that I've grown use too. I can see the tears starting to form in the pale blue eyes, the wrinkles around his eyes and forehead so much more pronounced, tanned skinned shaded by the light colored wide brimmed hat on his head. _

"_This is no place for you Eliot, I'm sending you to your grandparents in Kentucky." At those words my heart seizes and I struggle out of the grip, moving a few steps away from the kneeling man._

"_What do you mean by 'this place?' My place is here with you dad." I snarl and see the already defeated posture sag further. People move around us, their eyes taking in the scene of my father and I but hurry on by. With the slowness born of a beaten down body my father regains his feet and steps closer, his stained leather boots making an oddly hollow noise on the fancy tiled floor of the buss station. _

"_This isn't the life I wanted for you Eliot, I wanted you to become something great, go to school and achieve something I never could. Son you won't get far by following me around the country learning the trade of a criminal." He smiles sadly now and I square my jaw, having heard this before as my father sobbed in our hotel room after a successful retrieval. My father was a proud man when we still had the farm in Oklahoma but the poor crops and droughts tore that away from him. Mom had left and Sam took off not long after for Kentucky, leaving me to look after my dad. Together we moved from state to state, crossing the country numerous times in our search for work. When work grew scarce dad took up less than 'honest' ways of gaining the money that kept us going. His skills at stealing cars earned him a job as a Repossession man, then as a lock smith, picking locks for people who locked themselves out of their homes or cars. Those honest skills didn't go unnoticed and soon he was doing jobs for the local crime. _

_We'd lived like that for a while. Moving to one town, stealing or retrieving items, getting paid and leaving again, never in a place long enough to call home, never in a place to really slow down. _

"_I don't care about that Dad, I just… what will you do without me?" I ask, stubbornly holding back the tears threatening to fall. My father coos softly and plats my head, messing up the long hair. I disgustedly throw off the affectionate hand and glare as he chuckles softly. _

"_Eliot, it's not your job to look after me. It's your job to go to school, get an education and make something of yourself. Now I'm not saying be a lawyer or a doctor or whatnot, unless you want to, I just want you to live and honest life and feel like it has meaning." Dad's face is streaked with tears as he kneels again and pulls me into a hug, his strong arms crushing me to his chest. _

"_I dialed Sam and your Grandmother. Sam should be arriving any moment now to take you back to Kentucky." He explains into my hair and as I hold onto the body of my father I can feel the tremors wrack his frame. _

"_No, I don't want to go…" I sob into his shoulder, my whole world breaking down around me. I barely know my sister and I don't know my grandparents at all. All I've ever known is the front seat of the old pickup, my father's off-key singing and the never ending adventure. _

"_Dad?" My father let's go of me and stands to address a woman of sixteen her chestnut hair pulled way from her face. Pale and unmarred from hard work, Sam looked like the dutiful bookworm I figured her to be. _

"_Samantha, thanks for coming…" he trails off as the girl shoots him a withering look before looking at me, her eyes widen. _

"_Good Lord, he's half starved!" she exclaims and then rushes to me, grabbing my shoulders and trying to hug me, I squirm out of her grasp and glare hotly at her. I look again at my father but he refuses to meet my gaze as he says slowly_

"_Go on Eliot, Sam will take care of you, better than I have been able too." I hear my sister snort from where she's standing. Without a word I extend my hand and wait for him to take it. Without a thought my father's large, rough hand closes around mine and he smiles, a genuine smile and says softly_

"_The mark of a strong, honorable person is found in the strength of his handshake. From this I know you'll succeed in whatever you put your mind too. You have to, you're my son and nothing will change that Eliot. Nothing." He states and lets go of my hand. With a savage pull Sam yanks me along beside her, my lone carry sack of items slung over her shoulder. I look back into the crowd and find the back of a faded denim jacket and a stained light cowboy hat retreating. _

_That was the last I ever saw of my father. _

My body tenses automatically as feeling returns to my muscles. I can feel the cool hold of metal handcuffs around both wrists and push down the instinct to pull at them. Breathing shallowly I ease my eyes open, finding a white ceiling above me. I frown as I become more aware of my surroundings, the rhythmic tapping of fingers on a keyboard and the shuffling of papers.

Police station?

No, too accommodating

Hospital?

No, there isn't the smell of sickness and disinfectant in the air.

"Ah finally awake." A voice says from the doorway and I close my eyes, knowing my answer right off.

Leverage headquarters, probably Nate's office.

"Ya know, next time you want to get yourself killed I'll hand you the gun myself." Nate remarks, coming to sit in the leather chair beside the couch I'm laying on. Blinking blurrily my mind refocuses on the cool touch of metal and I snarl, pulling at the metal

"Unhandcuff me." Glaring into Nate's own eyes I can see the determination in them and then the cocky grin eating up his face.

"No, not until we've had a _long_ talk." He states stonily, without a hint of the usual thoughtfully jovial edge. I have to chuckle at that and draw a sharp breath as pain rockets through my side.

"I'm sure I can wait here longer than you can. Hell Nate, the best paid 'confessionals' couldn't _beat_ anything out of me, what makes you think you can?" I stare cockily, watching the dark haired me warily unsure of what to expect. Only Nate's 'Cat at the Canary' grin gives me a clue as to what to what the mastermind has in plan. He leans closer to me and I unconsciously flinch away, noting the smug look at my reaction I feel myself tense.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll have to pee soon, either that or sit up. Until you're willing to talk to me about what's going on you'll stay handcuffed. Now I'm sending in Parker to stitch up that knife wound. Behave, she has permission to make you if need be." He smirks and stands up and heads for the door. I growl in anger and pull again at the metal cuffs, hissing as the movement sends snaps of white-hot pain through my body. I breath deeply and ride it out as Nate pauses in the doorway, I shout over suddenly wanting to know

"Did I kill him?"

Nate pauses, hand on the doorframe and eyes saddened

"No, but you could have and probably almost did." With that he heads out into the main area, calling for Parker. A few minutes later the blond slips into the room, hands loaded with a suture kit and several other items. Without a shred of care she plops a bag of frozen vegetables down onto the swollen side of my face and then sits down in the leather chair, her face stoic. I keep my one eye on her as she pulls the sterile gloves on and rips off the protective paper from the kit.

"Listen, I know you're a loner and all Eliot, but you can't go off like that on your own." Parker starts and I feel the anger blaze inside me

"I didn't _stab_ someone with a _fork_." I snarl viciously back and jump as the blond seizes my injured arm just above the cut and squeezes. I laugh slightly, feeling the blood rushing to my face as I breathe through the pain

"Screw you. A fork wouldn't kill a man. A choke hold would Eliot, you could have _murdered_ someone because you got too emotional." She snaps and releases the injury while unwrapping the bandage. I eye the woman carefully, seeing the way her homicidal side gets tucked away under the deceiving petite blond package.

"Do you know what your doing?" I ask and Parker shoots me a sardonic smile

"Not really, just watched _a lot_ of ER." I groan as Parker starts to work on the injury.

++!!++

After Parker had cleaned up and nearly amputated my arm I was left to my own devices, still handcuffed to the couch. This did give me time to look at the rigging they set up to hold me there and I have to give them credit, it's a pretty good rig for improvising. Two metal poles screwed into the sofa frame on either side of my body act as a vice script, wedging my body between them and then hand cuffing my arms near my pelvic region. Honestly, not the most _uncomfortable_ restraint I've been in, but with the newly relocated shoulder and injured ribs neither is it all that wonderful. I shift slightly and try to relive the numbing ache in my side and wince at the sharp pain of my ribs. With a growl I settle back down, thankful for the slight relief to the numb area. Nate was right, believe it or not I do have to pee and the inability to shift and relive any aches is maddening but I have survived worse. Starring at the ceiling isn't helping at all with the boredom factor but I settle myself and examine my issue, well other than the issue of being handcuffed by my colleagues to a sofa.

Should I tell Nate about Victor Fayande?

Well let's weigh the pro's and con's shall we?

Pro off telling Nate: the mastermind might just have a way to help me end his attacks.

Con of telling Nate: actually having to explain to him what happened.

The actual telling of the story might do more damage than good, but not telling Nate means I'll probably be stuck here for a while more and I really, really need to pee. Shifting once more I eye the doorway once more, the office had been silent for a while now, only the tapping of fingers on keys to break up the silence.

"Hardison!" I shout and listen to the pause in the typing but am disheartened to hear it start back up, more aggressively than before.

"Sophie!" I call and can hear the intake of air but also the murmuring of voices somewhere out in the office. Cursing Nate for having probably told the two more compassionate people to stay clear and ignore me I turn my eye on the screws holding the poles to the sofa frame. With determination born of the need to move I raise my booted foot up and bring the hard wooden heel down onto where the screw is. I wince as the vicious vibration sends waves of pain through my body but continue to smash the sturdy boot heel against the metal. Sweat accumulates on my brow and the now unfrozen bag of vegetables falls from my swollen eye. I gasp for a moment, the swelling had gone down enough for me to open my eye slightly. The light is painful and I feel myself arching back as far as I can while screwing the offended pupil closed.

"Ahhh shit. My life is really sucking right now." I mumble to myself.

"Well it wouldn't if you would just talk to us." I jump at the delicate voice from the doorway and twist my head to see Sophie standing there. Behind her Nate looms, his face expressionless. With a frustrated groan I jerk at the handcuffs once more before sighing.

"Fine. Unhandcuff me, let me use the bathroom and get some aspirin and I'll tell you." I concede sullenly. Sophie breaks out into a grin and quickly moves foreword but Nate pulls her back, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Your not just playing us right? Your not going to run as soon as those cuffs are off?" I bite back a wicked laugh, instead showing him the winces I had been holding back.

"I honestly don't think I could run at this moment."

Here we go.

**Author Note: **so this story seems to be moving right along and I'm thoroughly enjoying myself and I hope your enjoying reading this. Please review and I will update again soon.


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: **Decisions that I Make

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** Eliot is the silent enigma, always suspicious and secretive. But when he is injured by a mysterious attacker the group of thieves learns more about the enigmatic man.

**Author Note: **I have to apologize for the delay in this chapter being posted. I did something incredibly stupid while at a farm function and ended up with a concussion that I was trying to home treat to avoid going to the hospital which included lots of darkness and sitting very, very still. (Note to self: Do not continue to walk up a huge hill after falling on ice and cracking your head. Then, after climbing said hill do not sled down it in a muck bucket. You tend to flip over numerous times.) Yes, so due to my idiocy this chapter is very late.

Bad news abound: I start back to classes on Tuesday the 20th, I am taking 4 courses this semester (my last hopefully) and will be busy but I will continue to write and update this fic on a regular basis. I know I have a sculpture class and a design class, so projects aplenty for me.

Kylie: if you want the link you either have to do a signed review or IM me via the screen name listed on my profile. Or, you can just go to my youtube page via the link, it's saved in my favorites. Have at it it's good stuff.

Sadly, due to me being medicated I misses last Tuesday's episode, but then bought it from Itunes because I couldn't wait for it to come out On Demand. So, it's kinda funny how Eliot managed to take out a guy with stuffed mushrooms. Kinda random too. Anyway hopefully next weeks episode will be just as good.

Alright, enough of this, Onto the fic!

**Chapter seven: My reasons**

(Nate)

From my office I can hear Eliot's cursing as Parker sews him up and resist the urge to lean around the corner, wanting to see the man who has caused such problems wince in pain. Luckily just as I'm about to give into the temptation Hardison calls from his office, turning I raise the brandy sniffer and take a gulp before heading towards the hacker's office.

"What did you find?" I ask, coming to stand behind the rapidly typing man. Hardison shoots me a look before pointing at a chair. I sit and then roll closer so I can view the screen easily.

"Alright, well all the records of 'Eliot Spencer' date back to 1991, a few small thefts that landed him at the Christian County court house for sentencing after being caught inside a wealthy man's home. There is no record of how that went and if he went to jail or not, there are no records of Eliot Spencer until after 1995. I was talking with Eliot one night during the whole mob boss fiasco and he mentioned something about 'liberating Croatia' which, after doing some research that would have put Eliot at about twenty one years old, old enough to fight in a war. I'm thinking he was sent to the military and ended up in special forces, just by the way he moves and some of the shit he knows." Hardison explains as he pulls up multiple pictures to show me.

"I think this guy, right here" Hardison's dark finger shoots out to point at a young, thin man with hair tied back under a bandana holding a massive bowie knife " is our resident retrieval specialist." He leans back in the chair, a smug look on his face. I nod, taking in the stern expression of the squarely set jaw, lacking its usual stubble. I can see today's Eliot in those eyes, the hyper-alertness and calculating look he sometimes gets.

"Anything else?" I ask, nodding as Hardison pulls up some more information.

"Yeah, sometime around 1997 the name 'Spencer' resurfaced linked to some jewel thefts in Arabia, Russia, South America, all across Europe. Many items having been 'mysteriously' gone at functions in which a guest named Eliot Spencer was on the list." I nod, having caught wind of the man later that same year, this time he managed to 'retrieve' a heavily insured Cameo Broach that belonged to Al Capone's mother and make a getaway with it. Of course I chased him but by the time I managed to track the elusive specialist the broach was long gone and he was tight lipped as always.

"Yeah so basically we know that 'Spencer' is an alias he adopted while he was in trouble as a kid and has long since built a reputation upon it. Good, anything further on back?" I hint and Hardison's eyes light up

"Yeah, that number you gave me belongs to a woman named Samantha Thomas, a house wife who lives in Washington County of Kentucky. I looked her up, the woman has a super clean record, right down to her driving record. I mean nothing comes up linking her to Eliot, except the number in his phone." I nod, staring at the screen at the smiling woman. I can see the resemblance although faint, the stubborn hint behind her blue eyes and lighter brown hair.

"Alright, good job." I thank and clap the hacker on the shoulder before heading out of the office. In the kitchen I can hear Sophie's heels tapping on the tiled floor, pacing. She's worried, she's come to like Eliot and seems to worry over him more than she should. I smile slightly and greet her.

"Your worrying again." Stating the obvious grabs her attention and the dark haired woman's face shoots up, eyes wide. She stare at me for a moment before nodding and placing her hands on her hips.

"Yeah, I guess I am." She agrees as I lean against the counter, drumming my fingers on the counter behind me. Looking down at the floor I ask simply

"Why?" Sophie's sharp intake of breath draws my attention upward and I gaze at the Grifter, finding her face a flurry of emotions.

"Well, he's a part of this team Nate, it's obvious he's into something drastic…" she trails off, blushing slightly

"He can take care of himself you know, never met a person who can take on a whole bar of armed men and come out perfectly fine, sipping his tea like nothing happened." I joke, watching the pacing with a studying eye.

"Well yeah Nate, but that's the problem! For someone who can wipe the floor with just about anyone and stay perfectly sane, this stresses him out. Being attacked and injured drives me nearly to kill some thug in a park? Come on Nate, there's obviously _something_ much bigger than what Eliot can handle going on here!" she states and I nod. I'm about to say something when Parker comes stalking in, the used suture kit in hand and face stoic.

"Did he behave?" I ask the thief and the petite blond gives me a shaky smirk

"Good thing he's handcuffed, he's mad as hell." She dumps the used kit into the trash and heads for her office

"Have fun!" her mocking tone making me cringe. Silence hangs over the office, Hardison's rapid typing. Suddenly the unmistakable gruff shout makes me grin

"Hardison!" the typing from the computer hacker's office pauses but starts right back up, the sound almost deafening as the fingers slam home on the keys. I pause then the name of the only person in the office who will help him

"Sophie!" the Grifter gives a small gasp and is about to head right for the office but I grab her quickly, holding her back.

"This is cruel Nate, he's as much a member of this team as you are." She says anger making her accent thicker.

"He has to get it into his head that we're in control here." I state, trying to convince myself as much as the woman. I know that a man like Eliot can not be controlled; he's obviously always been a loner and lives by his own rules.

"In order for him to _trust_ us and _confide_ in us, he has to know we're not afraid to do something like this. He needs to know that if handcuffing him to a couch for a few hours is what needs to be done than so be it. He wouldn't _respect_ us if we didn't." Sadness creeps into the dark eyes and I release the woman,

"Come on, you'll need to be there as much as I do." With a silent nod and a lick of her lips Sophie heads for the office and I trail behind her, unsure of what to expect.

**(Sophie) **

I stand by the doorway to Nate's office and watch as the ex-insurance agent uncuffs the long haired specialist, the man's face slight red from exertion but eyes clear and focused as Nate removes the cuffs. Both eyes are open and I hold back a wince as I get a good look at the blue orb behind the swollen lid. Red and watering Eliot quickly places a hand over the injured side of his face, sealing the vicious bruises and injured optic from view. I smile at the action, knowing its Eliot's polite upbringing that makes him such a charmer to be around. It's in his mannerisms around woman, he was raised to respect them and tries hard not to swear or do anything else when around them. Unless you're a mob bosses' bitchy wife, then he wants to kill you, but other than that I've always been treated to Eliot's more gentle side and as far as I know Parker hasn't heard a hard word or action from the man.

"Ahhh…" he breathes as Nate helps him sit up and winces as his back protests. With a withering look shot at Nate the long haired man stands, my concern launching up a notch at the wobble in his stride.

"Where are you going?" I ask suddenly and Eliot stops in front of me and smiles slightly

"Bathroom…" he lets the rest trail and heads out. I turn to look at Nate who only shrugs.

"Let the games begin." He says and I nod.

**(Eliot)**

The whole gang is here, seated at the conference room table with bowls of popcorn and several sodas set up at the various chairs, much like it would be if this was a briefing for a job. But it's not, this is the telling of my acts in Vietnam and how the grudge of Victor Fayande has trailed after me since the incident on the Chinese border. I drum my fingers on the lighted top and find four sets of eyes on me, the nervous prickling at the back of my neck makes me shiver.

"Are you alright Eliot?" Sophie's concerned question makes me jump slightly as I fight down the natural motions of grabbing my boot knife and taking out the threat that's causing that feeling. With a thick swallow I force the feeling down and nod my head.

"Uhhh yeah." I breath and look at Nate, wanting to plead with the man but his calculating look is telling me to get on with it.

Like a band-aid, rip it off the pain only lasts for a minute.

Who the fuck rips off a band aid anyway?

"Okay, well…. Uhh…" I try to start but stop, finding myself unsure of how to start this tale. Nate must have noticed because he suddenly speaks up

"Who was it? The man who messed you up?" I look at Nate, thanking him silently for the question to start this.

"A man named Victor Fayande, he's a… black market dealer. Deals in high end things everything from illegal firearms to human trafficking." I lick my lips and scan the table seeing the looks of curiosity on those of my fellow thieves.

"Why does he keep coming after you? Bad deal? Stole his woman?" Nate prompts and again I shoot him a look.

"Not too long after the military discharged me I started gaining a name for myself as a retrieval specialist, pulling jobs for all sorts of people, not really caring what they wanted the merchandise for as long as they paid me. I was contacted by Fayande and asked to do a job concerning moving items from Vietnam into Cambodia, under the eye of the governments. Pay was huge, so I took it. I arrived in this small town outside of the border figuring on the stuff being relics or jewels, something simple." I stop, reflecting back on that day as I entered the walled town, under armed guard to find my merchandise to be living, breathing people. I shudder at the memory and close my eyes, remembering the desperation in the woman's eyes and the starved bodies of the children. I jump, a warm hand coming into contact with my chilled forearm. Sophie's hand, soft and warm gives me the silent go ahead to continue.

"The merchandise was live humans. A whole town of people that Fayande wanted moved from their village in Vietnam to several of his clients holding areas in Cambodia and then to be sold to anyone on the Black Market. Among them were pregnant women, elderly, wounded men, people who wouldn't survive the trip."

"You were actually _considering_ it!" Parker suddenly shouts and I turn my attention on the seething woman, the outrage in her eyes making me sick to my stomach. Hardison grabs the volatile woman's arm and forces her to sit down, speaking softly. I glance over at Nate and Sophie, finding disgust and blank interest in their eyes. Without a word I clasp my hands in front of me and set my jaw, I am not going to allow these people to make a decision about me before they know the true story.

"Yeah Parker and I did it. I smuggled them across the border into China instead and I hid them among the people, found them jobs and places to live. I didn't deliver them to Fayande's far as I know, their still living happily in a small city in China." I conclude and look down, not wanting to see their faces or their final decisions about me.

"So, what did you do with his money?" Nate asks and I look up, staring the man right in the eye.

"I arrived on time at his home in the wine lands of Italy and told him to stuff his money. Raised a bit of hell, uhh.. burnt his villa to the ground and then exposed his involvement in the Black Market, with the help of some friends of course." Silence again, drawing in a breath I glance at the others, finding Parker's smooth face breaking into a sad grin

"You're too honorable. You didn't even take the _money_!" she says and throws some popcorn at me. I give a soft chuckle, feeling relived that she didn't turn on me.

"It was _dirty_ money, made off the sale of people." I declare and look down at my battle scarred hands.

"Ever since then Fayande has been spending insane amounts of money to track me, he hired this guy named Kim from Canada to beat me down whenever he manages to find me." I clarify, the tightness in my stomach finally loosening.

"How many times has he caught up to you?" Nate asks and I have to think about it, there have been times where Kim's passed by as close as Death's cold hand but never touched me, then there are times where the man nearly placed me in the icy embrace.

"He's actually caught me six times, he's been _near_ me almost over a dozen. Most of the time I can skip out of town before Kim can find me, he's not the brightest of people and goes off of tips than high tech tracking." I clarify and lean back, wincing as my ribs protest and place my hand against the injured area.

"So, the 'lesbian bar' thing, Kim got a hold of you?" Nate asks and I nod,

"Yeah, that was only a 'peek-a-bo I found you'. Next time he catches me, it'll be a lot worse." I clarify and fall silent and closing my eyes. I know the others are exchanging looks with each other and I let them, not wanting any part in their decision.

I already made it myself.

I have to leave in order to protect the others.

"Fayande will not stop till I am brought before him, dead or alive. He doesn't care who he has to hurt to get to me. If Kim figures out about you guys you will be next." I explain and stand, pushing back the chair.

"Eliot, by working together we can beat this guy." Nate tries to argue and Hardison and Parker both launch into ideas, Hardison's fingers flying across the keys. I look at Nate

"Why do you think that when Sam calls I hang up?" With that I spin on my heel and head for my office, my decision made already.

**Author Note:** I don't like how this part came out, I really don't. (makes a face) but it was necessary to explain what the issue is. I tried to find something that Eliot would have a major problem with and used whatever information I could get out of the show's dialog. Anyway, please review and I will try to update when I can. Thanks again!


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: **Decisions that I Make

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** Eliot is the silent enigma, always suspicious and secretive. But when he is injured by a mysterious attacker the group of thieves learns more about the enigmatic man.

**Author Note: **Gah, you guys are awesome. Thank you so much for your reviews and input I appreciate it. I took the liberty of making up names for this chapter and kind of going a little 'out there' with my facts. Next chapter will be up soon, I start school this coming week.

Also on the Betta note, I don't trust people to look over my stuff I actually had someone steal an idea and then blame me for taking _their_ idea when it actually came from me, so I try the best I can but things do get past me. I am doing better after the complete act of stupidity so I am more readily able to look for errors, if ya find any I apologize but I'm not a professional writer, I type code for web sites it's all gibberish.

**Chapter 8: Changing it up**

"What exactly are these?" I quickly look over at what Hardison is pointing to and wince as Sophie gives a frustrated growl behind me, the scissors in her hand clipping through the hair with a vicious snap. I squint my eyes and try to focus on what the hacker is looking at in the cabinet.

"What do they look like?" I ask and give into the insistent prodding in my shoulder and turn back around, starring straight ahead at the TV on the wall. Parker, who the moment stepped through my door quickly set to work picking the locks of all my locked cabinets before finally settling down to flip through the channels.

"These." Hardison says, placing the two antlers on the table. I glance at them and hold my hand out for one, Hardison places it in my grip and I quickly arrange my fingers into the proper hold.

"My Grandfather made me these when I was fifteen; these are the antlers of a buck I shot while we were out hunting." The grips are worn and my fingers easily curve over the hard bone. Hardison raises his hands with a snarl on his lips

"That's gross." He backs off, leaving the antlers with me, the ends sharpened into vicious points. I remember watching my grandfather whittle down the buck's prized possessions on the front porch of the house, his calloused fingers working expertly; he would usually tell me a story while working. I loved my grandfather and I shudder to think that he's rolling over in his grave knowing what I've been doing. I swipe gently at the air with the antler but stop when Sophie grabs a chunk of my long hair and whispers close to my ear

"If you don't stop moving, I will end up cutting off your _ear_." I quickly obey and sit still, not wanting to enrage the already distraught woman. My mind flashes back to a time when the same words were uttered, in an old kitchen a long ways away.

"_Eliot Christopher Carpenter if you don't sit still I will end up cutting the tip of your ear off then what will all those girls think?" My grandmother growled at me, the old scissors clutched in one hand and the black comb in the other. I wiggle on the stool once more and catch my grandfather's eye, his own pale blue orb behind the thick glasses winking and a smile touching his lips._

"_Oh Cynthia I think the girls will be mighty sweet on the boy regardless of what his hair length is." He says, folding his paper in half. I hear my grandmother huff behind me and wince as the black comb scrapes across my scalp. The scissors sharp __**snip**__ is the only response before the sadly spoken words assault my ears _

"_I let Thomas grow his hair out this long and it wasn't too long before the boy up and left. I'm not going to let that happen again." So softly spoken that my machine-deaf grandfather probably couldn't hear it, but I could. Grandmother would often comment on how much like my father was and she knew it was a matter of time before I left too…_

"How short are you going to make it?" I jump as Nate's words cut sharply through the near silence of my apartment making Sophie slap me upside the head.

"Much shorter now that you moved!" she snaps and I wince away afraid she'd strike me again. Nate holds back his snickers while Parker and Hardison watch from the couch.

"Listen, I have a pair of clippers in the bathroom, why not just shave it off?" I ask, annoyed with this entire plan already.

Did I explain about 'The Plan' yet?

No?

Well here ya go.

I was all set to up and leave Chicago, just flat out disappear, the desire to just step away was so close I could _taste _it, but Nate had this plan. The ex-insurance cop wants to run a game on Kim-the-Canadian and Fayande-the-jackass, of course using me as the bait to get the two men to expose themselves. In order to protect me from another attack Sophie had the idea of changing my looks, which mainly included cutting my hair since that's the most noticeable feature. She also contacted a stage make-up supplier and got some contacts for me to wear, colored of course. Hardison offered to set up some camera's around the apartment so I can see anyone coming, but that idea had a slight issue in it due to my hard time with computers. Then Parker suggested why not all of them stay with _me_ until this whole thing passed. Nate readily agreed because he _likes_ prying into my life and Sophie was damn near jumping for joy at being able to get access to my apartment.

So, here we are, sitting in my apartment which felt _huge_ before four more people decided to move in and take up my personal space. At least I still have my loft bedroom to myself, having deemed the area off limits to my fellow thieves and decided to keep a strict eye on Parker, knowing the blond thief was just itching to get up there.

"No, we don't want to _shave_ it. If you sit still I can fix this." Sophie declares and I make a strict effort at sitting still as the woman clips off more of my hair. I close my eyes and sigh, thinking back to the major changes in my life and how a short hair cut was always present.

My arrival at the farm in Kentucky after leaving my father, the hair was cut at the kitchen table after too many arguments with my grandmother.

My first year of highschool after a long summer of bailing hay on the farm and working the horses for a nearby trainer, it had been real long then and I can't help but wince at the memory of the snarls Grandmother had to work out just to comb it.

The day I signed up for the military, I stood before the mirror with the old set of horse clippers and stared stoically at myself while I buzzed the long locks from my head, leaving it nothing but dark stubble and pale skin. Both my grandmother and sister sobbed in the kitchen as my grandfather ran his calloused hand over the newly shorn head, his eyes sad.

After my placement into the 'black opts' (that's not really what I was, but for sanity's sake that's what I'll call it) I let the strict military cut grow out, the main theory in my unit having been 'if we don't exist than we don't need to obey the rules'.

I removed a braided lock of hair the day of my Grandfather's funeral and placed it on his chest before kissing his own bald brow and whispering the last prayer I ever uttered.

Now, surrounded by people I've come to respect enough to place my life in their hands I do yet another hair cutting, this time at the mercy of a European Grifter while a man is out there hunting me down because I chose to do the right thing.

I can almost hear the old man rolling around in the ground.

"All finished." Sophie announces and I feel her hands wiping off the stray wisps of hair from my shoulders and I stand. Parker stares blatantly from the couch, her eyes almost as wide as her mouth while Hardison shakes his head beside her. I glance over at Nate, seeing the calculating look in his eyes and wait patiently.

"You look so…. Different, without so much hair." I snort at the man and head for the loft, taking the steps two at a time. Upstairs I can hear the whispering of my colleagues and the sound of a broom being drawn across the floor but ignore it, heading for the small wooden box on my dresser. Prying off the lid I shift through the bracelets and necklaces, my fingers twitching over the dogtags before taking up four silver rings. With practiced ease I push them into the rarely used holes and glance at the reflection in the mirror.

Short cropped hair, a stern frown and narrowed brown eyes starring back. The four small silver ear rings make me look like an average man walking on the street. Maybe there is something to this plan after all

"Clean shaven and in a new style of clothes I don't even think your Mama will be able to tell it's you." Hardison's twang reaches me from the stairway. I shift a bit and look at the man as he leans his arms on the railing.

"You're assuming my mom knows what I would look like." I smirk at the man and step back from the mirror and seat myself on my bed. Harison takes the unspoken invitation and steps further into the loft, opting to lean against the railing.

"Listen man, I know this plan is a bit on the hazy side but I'm sure Nate knows what he's doing." He tries to assure me and I rub my hands together and smirk at the man.

"I know, sometimes you just need a little reminder." Standing I press a protective hand to my ribs and stand still, feeling the bone shift under my hand. Hardison watches me, his dark eyes not missing a single action

"Sorry 'bout that. Nate made me." I look up and see the concern filtering through his usually sarcastic shield. I smile and withdraw my hand

"You did what you had to do, no one can blame ya." I hold my fist out and Hardison bumps it with his own allowing a smile to break the stern frown.

"Yeah man, that's what I want ta see." He laughs and heads down the stairs I follow a bit more slowly my socked feet hitting the boards sends pain shooting through my side and I suck in a breath, leaning against the wall and press my hand against the broken ribs. They shift under the pressure and I bite my lip. I'll have to manipulate them back into place and rebind them, can't take the chance of one of them going rouge and pushing through a lung. Pushing down the sharp pains I continue my walk back out into the main area of the apartment. Nate and Sophie are sitting at the table and Parker is staring up at the guitar on the wall, humming to herself. Hardison is set up on the kitchen island, tapping quickly on his laptop.

"Nate, I got the direct line to Fayande's office." Hardison suddenly says and hops over to the table, laying the computer down on the top in front of the mastermind. I see his eyes light up and he shoots a look at me before pulling out his cell phone and dialing the number. Face contemplative Nate stands up and goes to one of the counters and leans over it.

"Hello? Is this Victor Fayande?" Nate asks an evil glint in his eyes. I come to lean against the sink, watching the man as he talks rapidly.

"I have information on a man you're looking for. Eliot Spencer?" Nate pauses for a moment and I can vaguely make out the other man's voice. I shudder slightly, my spine tingling with the desire to _attack_ to _harm_ the man who has caused me such issues. I raise a fist and turn around to look down into the sink, sick to my stomach as the memory of the balding man, surrounded by cigar smoke and dressed in nicer clothes than I'd ever seen comes to the surface. I feel someone behind me and tense, ready to step back and swing my fisted hand at that person but hold still as Parker places her smaller hand on the top of my fisted one. I glance at her but keep my jaw squared.

"Yes, if you could come to my offices tomorrow I can give you what we know." Nate smiles into the phone

"Ahh a reward never crossed my mind but it's always nice to know your aid is appreciated." I glare at the man and he shrugs before saying some kind of ending pleasantry and hanging up.

"So, we have an appointment with our very elated friend Victor Fayande tomorrow at ten o'clock. Of course we're going to need a new cover instead of the Leverage offices." Nate sets rolling as Hardison scrambles to make up new signs. Sophie quickly starts writing down personalities and jobs. Parker pats my hand and walks away leaving me leaning over the sink.

"What's my role?" I ask Nate as the man reaches down to grab the bottle of Jack Daniels from my storage area. Nate looks up at me and glances at the cabinet above me. I pull down two glasses and set them out, watching as the amber liquid sloshes into the two holders.

"Your role for tomorrow is to stay out of the way and identify for us. You'll be in your office with the door closed and listening in, you can fill us in after the fact with any concerns or ideas you have." He says taking a sip of the bourbon and winces; I smirk at the man's reaction to the kick having grown use to it long ago.

"I have a good idea. How about I skip town and call you guys from wherever the hell I end up. Nate this is a bad idea, Fayande will _see_ through it, he's a professional criminal." I try to reason with the man but as his smirk only grows larger I down the whole glass of bourbon and slam it onto the table making the glass crack. Everyone falls silent for a moment as I glare heatedly at the ringleader.

"You don't know what Fayande is capable of. I watched him _burn_ a whole building to the _ground_ just to get to me. People who tried to help me in the past haven't survived Nate, you just don't get it." I growl, afraid suddenly for these people who I swore would never get close, people I silently care for. Sophie, Parker, Hardison and even Nate, I don't want to see them endangered because of this, not for me. Nate's hands grab me by the shoulders and I jump and try to pull away but the sharp pains return, pinning me under his hands.

"Nothing is going to happen to us, trust me." I look at the man's calculating blue and eyes and see the truth and I want so badly to trust him, want someone to just take this issue and get rid of it, but somewhere in the back of my head I _know_ this isn't a good idea.

"Besides, should you try to run I'll have Parker sit on you and we all know you won't hit a girl." Nate smirks and I growl softly at the man before shrugging off his hands and walking away.

**Author Note: **A friend of mine now has me watching Angel (yeah I know -.- ) but I didn't know it had Christian Kane in it, so it makes it a bit easier to watch so I've been reading some fics based on that character as well. He was so younger looking back then, like whoa. Anyway hope you all don't kill me for changing what he looked like and please review!


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: **Decisions that I Make

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** Eliot is the silent enigma, always suspicious and secretive. But when he is injured by a mysterious attacker the group of thieves learns more about the enigmatic man.

**Author Note: **I'm not minding Angel so much, I use to watch it back when I was a teen when it was popular and stuff, but after the second season things got a bit crazy with it and I had jobs and stuff, so I stopped. Now I'm just watching because of Kane. Anyway I'm done with season 1 and am now looking for season 2, hopefully for free online (so I watch it during boring classes, I know, naughty me). I'm annoyed with the fact that I have downloaded Leverage episodes but their not AVI's so I can't make a video because I was going to. But yeah, not the right kind and the guy who is my Pirate can't get me other formats.

Alright, I'm done… onto the fic.

Oh! I forgot, thanks for not being angry over the fact that I changed his hair a bit. I like guys with long hair, but on him it takes away from his face. I dunno, but okay, I'm actually done now.

**Chapter 9: My name is Devil **

**(Eliot)**

Fayande's arrival rushed upon us much faster than I expected. I was standing in the office talking with Nate, trying to inform the man of everything I know about the bastard when Parker leans in from the foyer of the office.

"He's getting off the elevator now." She hisses before coming to my side. Nate nods and straightens his jacket, pulling down the cuffs of his blazer and squaring his jaw. I've seen this look before, he's setting himself to be someone else. He's no longer Nathan Ford, he's the man who is about to sell me out to my biggest enemy. I seethe at the man for a moment, anger and betrayal bubbling up in my throat. Parker grabs my upper arm before I can say anything and ushers me into the closed up office, locking the three deadbolts she screwed into the wood earlier this morning. I stalk around the floor, pacing my anger out. Parker watches me from the doorway, her job in all this is to keep my from launching myself out the door and doing something incredibly stupid.

"Calm down, Nate's not going to let anything happen to you." Parker assures me, her voice holding an annoyed edge and I turn, glaring at the woman.

"You've never experienced what it's like to be sold out by someone Parker and hunted down like an animal." I snarl at her, letting her hear my anger, trying to scare her away but the woman holds her ground, arms crossed over her chest and face stoic.

"Not sold out and hunted down, no. But I know what it's like to feel like you can't trust anyone Eliot. I trust Nate, you should too." She says softly and as I look at the lithe woman dressed in her grey dress pants and vest I feel the anger slipping way.

"I'm sorry." I mutter and fall silent. Running a hand through my hair I sigh and ease myself down into the chair behind my desk. Parker joins me, sitting up on the desk and leaning over to view the screen. Outside I can hear the door open and tense up automatically

"I always wondered why you did that." Parker says, staring at the screen and I ease slightly, pressing a hand against my injured ribs. I managed to manipulate them back to where they should be in the shower this morning, almost passed out doing it then bandaged them tightly while in the privacy of my loft.

"Old habits die hard." I smile at Parker whose eyes shift to the door. Footsteps and voices pass the blacked glass and secured door. Hatred as strong as electricity snaps along my body and for a moment I have no sense of anything else but the vision of me attacking that man, his surprised look and my thrill at ending the relentless attacks with a swift arc of a hunting knife. I am tensed and ready, everything I was taught in the Special Forces coming to my mind, all the gorilla warfare tactics and the many ways to bring an opponent down.

My hatred for this man is deafening, blinding and tasty.

A hand grips my arm and I suddenly come back to myself. My hand is hovering over the door handle, shaking with rage. I turn my eyes on Parker, finding the woman's face red from exertion her feet planted to the ground and both arms wrapped around my upper arm, fingernails digging into the skin and drawing blood. I stand down and listen as Fayande and Nate exchange pleasantries. I nod to Parker and the woman gives me a suspicious glare before gently releasing me. The steps face away and I quickly head for the computer. Parker gently pries open on of the drawers and gets out the small 'medical kit' I keep in the room. Just a bunch of band-aid and Neosporin in case something should happen. I watch the screen intently not bothering to glance at Parker as she applies the cool gel and Band-aids to the four perfect half-moons on my bicep.

Victor Fayande is a short man only standing at five feet if he's lucky and very rotund. A thick and flabby stomach hangs over his dark colored slacks as he waddles into the room. For all sense he looks like an old time mobster, he wears a 'Zoot Suit' of sorts with the wing tipped shoes and carnation in his lapel. Upon meeting Sophie, who is posing as Nate's assistant, he takes the fedora off his balding head and takes her hand, kissing it. Parker gives a shiver and a soft 'uhhk' beside me as his lips touch Sophie's skin but I know that Sophie wouldn't make a move, her professionalism and acting ability taking over. I snort as the camera moves in on the man and growl at his face comes into better view, just as I remember it. A thick nose and wide mouth set in a pudgy face that looks like a humanized Pug than a person. Thick eyebrows and small beady eyes add to his 'flair' and what little hair he has left is slicked back. The mass shifts as he sits in the chair and I silently vow to personally _burn_ that chair.

"So, you have information on a man I'm searching for?" he starts out, the French accent less detectable now but still hinting on the edge. Parker settles herself beside me and I cast her a glance before returning my attention to the conversation taking place.

"Would you mind if I ask, why are you so determined to catch this fellow?" Nate asks curiously and the thick lips part slightly in a smile

"Ahh, Spencer was hired by me to transport human merchandise from Vietnam to Cambodia, he didn't do it. He ruined my business and caused me a lot of trouble. You see Mr. Hagen, where I am from we _destroy_ those who mess with a family business." He explains sternly, smiling slightly as he rocks in the chair. Nervousness flutters in my stomach and I bend foreword, placing my forehead on the desktop.

"Yes Mr. Fayande I believe I know what you're talking about." Nate agrees and they both smile, sharing a moment. My stomach twists at the man's deep throated chuckle and I resist the urge to retch up what I ate for breakfast this morning.

"He's a work of art hmmm?" Parker mutters from beside me and I can't even respond.

"This information then?" Fayande prompts and Nate sets into his lecture

"He is currently in Chicago but his place of residence is currently unknown to us. He was hospitalized under a false name of 'Carmen' after someone beat him up. I know he is driving a black GMC truck and often hangs out at a bar down on Mariner Ave. Typically he'll stay there from eight at night till about last call, which is two in the morning before leaving. My guys have tried to trail him, to find his base but he managed to loose them." Nate concludes and Fayande looks thoughtful

"Yes, Spencer is a crafty one. He hid my merchandise in China, small pocket cities where they blended in well. But, my men soon discovered them and killed anyone who resisted. I got most of my profit back, but not for a few years. Yes, wise like a fox this one is, but also stupid like one." He says and my head shoots up at his confession. My body begins to shake as realization crept on; he found them and _killed_ them. Those he didn't kill are now working as sex slaves or worse in Cambodia, around the world. The cute little girls who would happily sing at night are in some brothel, being used or worse, are dead in the bush of a country they were never meant to be in. Tears sting the back of my eyes and Parker grabs my arms, her silent strength anchoring me outside the memories.

"I hope, this information has helped you?" Nate says, his voice steady in the face of pure evil.

"Oh yes, as for your reward I hope this will help you with future investigations Mr. Hagen." He says and the creak of a chair and soon the sounds of footsteps echo past my office. A few more words are exchanged and then the outside office door closes.

"What the hell?" Hardison remarks, coming out of his own office where he had been taking in the whole thing as he knocks loudly on my own door, Parker moves quickly over to open it and allow access. I sit at the desk in slight shock and disgust at the man's words.

"Eliot?" Nate questions from the doorway and I shoot a glance at him, unsure if I can speak yet. Nate steps closer and seats himself in the chair in front of my desk, the others being waved off. Hardison closes the office door but I still can't form the words, can't seem to _speak_ the truth. If I don't acknowledge it, it never happened right? Those men who I joked with at night and scouted with during the day weren't killed or taken, the woman who sang sweet songs and kept everyone fed and happy aren't in brothels being treated like dirt. The innocent children, their smiling face and hopeful eyes are not being used and thrown off like garbage, not left forgotten on the road.

None of it happened if I don't acknowledge it.

'_just 'cause you don't want to see it, doesn't mean it's not there and that nothing will change it Eliot. The world is a dark place, but sometimes it's in the darker places you'll find the strength to stand up and carry on." _

My father's words, spoken to me in the middle of the night while we slept in the old truck and I now see what he meant. I look at Nate now, his blue eyes stern but understanding. I bring a hand up and rub my face before cursing

"So, that waste of air is Fayande? Pleasant person isn't he?" I ask voice gruff and tired, even to my own ears. Nate nods sternly

"Yeah, just the type we deal with." He says slowly and I nod my head, running a hand through my hair.

"So, what do we do now Nate?" I ask and the man shrugs, a mischievous glint coming into his eye

"We find someone who looks like you enough to trick the Kim guy and strategically place a black GMC out in front of the bars on Mariner, simple." He smirks and I snort, yeah, simple.

**(Nate)**

He's exhausted I can tell. We're all sitting around in his apartment, Parker having found an old game of scrabble in the garage down stairs Sophie, myself, Hardison and Parker all settled down to play. Eliot opted to not play since it's a four person game generally and his mumbled dislike for the game. Dark circles etch themselves under the blue eyes, the bruising finally turning a sickly yellow instead of bright purple and angry black. I can't get over how much _younger_ he looks with his hair cut short and with the four rings in his ears. Dressed in blue jeans and a tank top Eliot looks like he should be slinging beers at a bar or performing on stage somewhere, not sitting on the couch with a beer in his lap and eyes far away, his mind focused on something he couldn't prevent. He feels my gaze on me and flicks his eyes towards me, I look evenly back as the man looks away and brings the Budweiser to his lips, taking a long swig of it before tapping his fingers on the glass.

"Kleptomaniac. Ha, take that." Sophie suddenly says as he lays the pieces down on the board. Hardison gives the woman a shocked look while Parker flips through the mandatory dictionary. Eliot watches them curiously before stating quietly

"Parker, kleptomaniac is another word for thief. It is a word." Parker shoots him a look and then tosses the book to the side, blowing a breath out so her bangs move. I smile at the completely childish act as Hardison and Sophie argue over the points. Eliot moves and catches my attention; he brings a hand up to lay across his broken ribs, his eyes closed as a wave of pain washes over him. He's so silent about things that if I didn't know better I would never have guessed he was injured.

"Hey Eliot?" the blue eyes open quickly, all traces of a wince leaving his face as Parker stands, effectively leaving the game to point at the guitar up on the wall.

"Do you play that thing or is it a decoration?" she asks and Eliot responds slowly

"I know how to play and use to play but I haven't recently." Parker watches him curiously

"Can you play for us now?" she presses and I catch the startled look on the other man's clean shaven face.

"No, not now. Maybe later." He says and stands the beer in one hand. Bare footed he pads to the kitchen area. Sophie looks at me, her eyes concerned but face set expertly in a neutral expression.

"You guys have fun, I'm going up to the loft." He never says 'I'm hitting the hay' or 'going to sleep' anymore, because he rarely seems to sleep. Silent as he is I sometimes wake up to hear him moving around in the loft, his footsteps so light it disturbs no one else sleeping in the apartment.

"Well, that ended the night." Sophie says and stands as Hardison starts to pick up the game. I head for the sink to dump the rest of my bourbon, Hardison following to throw away the pizza plates and cups. I pull the man aside and whisper close to his ear

"Did you do it?" Hardison gives me a seriously look before muttering

"If your referring to _drugging_ the man, then yes I did. Dumped it in his beer before giving it to him, swirled it around and he didn't completely finish it so he wouldn't have tasted the residue." I nod and am about to walk away but the hacker grabs my arm

"When he finds out, I had no part of this." He states seriously, I smile

"What are you afraid of?" I ask

"Uhh, the fact that this man is a _trained_ killer and can probably string me up with my own shoe laces before I even know what's happening, yeah I think I'm a bit worried." He remarks and I chuckle.

"Don't worry, he likes you." I clap the hacker on the shoulder and walk away. Hardison calls after me

"Yeah and when we're all danglin' by our shoe laces you remember that!"

**Author Note: **a gift for all of you. So, you got to meet Fayande, finally right? Getting to the meat of the issue. Yeah, so this will be the last update until I can get around to writing again, I start classes again tomorrow but will probably update on Fridays since I don't have school on those days. So, thank you for reading, please do review and I shall see you all on the next update!


	10. Chapter 10

**Title: **Decisions that I Make

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** Eliot is the silent enigma, always suspicious and secretive. But when he is injured by a mysterious attacker the group of thieves learns more about the enigmatic man.

**Author Note: The tenth chapter has arrived! ** (throws confetti) I'm always excited when I get to the tenth chapter because I can't scrap this fic now, too much work has gone into it and too many people seem to enjoy it. So, needless to say this story is staying and will be completed, not to soon though, no worries. I see this fic going on for at least 15 chapters. Who knows what will happen in the future, at the moment I don't even know and I'm writing the bloody thing! So, this is where I thank all the people who have reviewed this story and stuck with it from the beginning!

The Leverage fic section is GROWING!! Another reason to celebrate; now all we have to hope for is that this kick butt series doesn't get cancelled because that would really, really suck. I hope the boys who produced it get another contract for another season and get a box set out soon, because it's a popular show.

Alright, I'm done. Onto the fic!

**Chapter 10: Rain **

"_MOM! MOM! Come watch the rain storm!" I shouted, running through the house from the front porch. I can hear her moving around upstairs and quickly climb them, sliding around the corner into my parent's bedroom bare feet barely gripping the polished floor. I stop in the doorway, breathing heavily and watch as my mother erratically piles her belongings into a case. Her hands are shaking ruthlessly as she picks up her jewelry box and dumps it into the suitcase along with all her clothes. I step further into the room, confusion setting in _

"_Mom? What are you doing?" I ask softly and when she doesn't turn I think she hasn't heard me. Stepping closer I grab into the hem of her shirt but back away quickly as a quick hand comes down, smacking me upside the head. Jolting back a few steps I stare up at her, not understanding the reason behind the swat. Mom never hit Sam or I, not unless we'd done something really, really wrong. _

_I don't understand, what did I do that would make her swat at me?_

"_Mom?" I ask, unsure and willing the tears threatening to fall to stay where they are. My mother's Pawnee heritage giving her a youthful look, but the beauty of her face is erased as the narrow eyebrows are drawn together and the thin lipped mouth is pulled back in a snarl. _

"_Get away from me!" She snaps and comes at me once more, her hand raised as if to strike me. I back away from the motion, wincing away from it. _

"_So much like your father, stupid, stupid boy." She snaps and the hands connect with my face and head. I fall to my knees and curl up, trying to get away from her blows as they become more painful. I'm crying now, listening as her curses and hateful words assault me. _

"_Charisma what are you doing!" My father's voice rages and I open my eyes, still protectively huddled to find my father's mud soaked boots leaving mud tracks on the carpet. I look up to see my father holding onto my mother's struggling form. I slowly get to my feet, tears still leaking from my eyes and make for the door, but I'm frozen as the words she's muttering hit me_

"_Worthless bastard! Should have been destroyed at birth! Get off ME!" she kicks out at my father, who only holds onto her. His light colored hat has been knocked off and lays on the floor beside a silver bracelet, the silver a stark contrast against the dark rug. _

"_Eliot, go downstairs and find Sam." I hesitate at my father's words but jump at the heartsick words _

"_Now Eliot. It'll be alright." He soothes and I look at my hysterically sobbing mother, still wondering exactly what I did wrong and obey, wiping at my eyes before heading down the stairs. Sam's on the front porch watching the approaching lightning storm, rocking lightly in the white chairs. I push my way out and let the door slam behind me, ignoring the annoyed look from my sister. _

"_What's wrong with you?" she asks but I shake my head_

"_Nothing." Keeping my eyes focused on the fields as the dark, angry clouds billow over them. The wind blows over the stalks, making them sway soothingly in the wind as the scent of damp earth and electricity reach my senses. I breath deeply, earning a giggle from Sam _

"_Your such an idiot Eliot, you can't _smell_ a storm." She giggles into her school book. I glare at her before sitting down on the steps of our porch. Banging from the house has me turning around and I spot Mom coming through the doorway, a dufflebag and suitcase held firmly in her hands. She plows through the door, making the screen scream loudly as it whacks the siding. I quickly move out of the way, scrambling off the steps and into the small flower bed beside it to avoid the woman, unsure of her reaction. _

"_Mom? Where ya going?" Sam asks, standing and putting her school book back on the chair. I step up onto the porch beside her, the fat rain drops already starting. Mom doesn't say a word, only throws her bags into the rusted old station wagon and starting the engine. _

"_MOM!?" we both cry as I jump off the porch and race to keep up with the car, wanting to know, wanting to see her. Why is she leaving! My mind is screaming at me as I pump my legs faster, screaming out for her to stop and saying I'm sorry. Tears mingle with the icy rain drops of a summer rain as I am forced to give up my chase. _

"_Eliot! Get back here!" Dad shouts from the porch but I sit myself down on the muddy road, my pants becoming soaked through as the rain continues to pour down. I sob, not understanding, warm, salty tears mixed with those falling from the sky. _

"_C'mon boy." My father picks me up and slings me over his shoulder, uncaring if my soaked body is making his shirt all muddy and wet. Setting me back on the porch he kneels down, pulling Sam in front of him _

"_Dad, where's Mom? Where'd she go?" Sam asks, her voice thick with tears. I stare down at the boards of the porch, watching the water drip from my nose and hair. _

"_It's 'cause of me…that's why she left." I sniff, rubbing at my eyes. My father makes a face before pulling me into a hug, dragging my sister with me_

"_No, no Eliot. It's not because of you. Your mom is sick right now, that's all. She'll come back when she's better." Sam and I sob into the wet shirt, clinging to it as the rain continues to hammer down on our house. _

_My mom never came back and I never saw her after that day. _

I wake up, my body jolting out of the memory of my mom's departure from my life. Breathing heavily I press a hand against my ribs as I try to get my heart to slow down. I haven't dreamed of that day in so long, but the memory is still fresh, still painful. The clock beside my bedside reads five-thirty in glowing green letters. Groaning softly I allow myself to fall back onto the pillows. Raising my left arm I sigh, playing with the old bracelet, the only thing I have left from my mother. Spinning it around I fiddle with the clasp, the Fleur-de-lis is tarnished in places. One of the pieces is worn from being scraped along tables. Dropping my arm back down onto the bed I listen intently for any sounds from the main area. Gingerly I get out of bed and move over to the railing, peering over cautiously I can't help but snort at the scene below me. Parker is sprawled out on her back on top of her sleeping bag, her lanky limbs hanging off the cot's sides. Peaceful and innocent in sleep I think it's the only time she's ever still. Hardison is curled on his side under the military issued sleeping bag I loaned him, soft snores coming from him every time he inhales. Nate is on the couch, having claimed it the first night he stayed here, I often wonder what makes his sleep so restless but dismiss it as the same reason my own sleep is disturbed. Sophie is covered with blankets and sleeping soundly in the reclining chair, her hair tussled. Smiling to myself I step back from the railing and drag on a pair of sweat pants before settling down in the chair beside the bookshelf. My personal reading collection takes up one shelf of the cherry oak case, the rest of the shelves are small reminders of places I have been, a few photographs. I sit in the silence and allow myself to be pulled back asleep, curled up in the chair.

**(Nate)**

"Hardison you clogged the toilet!" Parker shouts as she bangs the bathroom door open, face twisted in anger. The hacker looks up from his place beside me and frowns

"No I didn't, I didn't even _do_ that." He clarifies making Sophie groan and look away, the woman always having been a bit sensitive to bodily functions. Parker sighs and crosses her arms and cocks a hip

"Well, something's wrong with it." She gripes and huffs, turning sharply and heading for the steps to the loft. I give chase, not wanting her to disturb Eliot.

"Pakrer!" I whisper harshly as I approach the stairs in time to see the lithe blond skirting around the corner. A low whistle echoes from her and cautiously I head up, trying to stay silent. Reaching the top I m shocked to find Eliot's up and pulling a shirt over his bruised torso. I wince at the dark bruising and smile when his eyes find me.

"And Hardison went in before me, and he's the one who clogged your toilet." Parker's spewing quickly and judging by the blurry and befuddled look Eliot's trying to understand the quick words. With a wordless nod he stumbles past me and down the steps, Parker close at his heels. I gaze around the loft, the bed unmade and wrinkled.

"At least he slept." I mumble to myself before following the two back down. Eliot's standing in front of the bathroom, rubbing a hand through his short cropped hair before sighing.

"No, it does this occasionally. The guy in the building across from me and I share the same central city line. I think he has a girlfriend who flushes stuff down she's not supposed too." He remarks, yawning and heading for a closet. I peer into the bathroom and find that the water spilling forth from the porcelain bowl is being held back from the hardwood floors by several towels. Eliot returns with his pants rolled up and a pair of water boots on, a mop and bucket held in his hand.

"I deal with this at least once every two months, so don't worry about it. I'll have to go over and chat with my neighbor later today though." Without ceremony Eliot steps into the flooded room, his rubber boots sloshing through the water. Parker leans against the doorframe and I head back to my coffee. Hardison the first night he stayed here declared he would be purchasing a coffee maker because the hacker can not get going without his caffeine shot in the morning.

"So, what's the plan for today?" Hardison asks, his fingers dancing over the lap top's keys.

"Well… uh. I was thinking that today maybe would be a down day, I'd take a ride over to Mariner Ave with Eliot later on, scope out the place and see what's what. Other than that I'm not going to be launching anything new today. I think we all need a break." Sophie and Hardison both agree. I look up to where Parker is hovering in the bathroom doorway and frown as the young woman steps into the small room. Pushing it aside I stand and take my coffee and head back to the couch, flipping on the TV and surfing, mind already focused on the upcoming job.

++!!++

"So, what do you want to take?" Eliot asks as the lift falls into home at the garage. Pushing back the safety gate Eliot steps out and stands in the middle of his collection. Left side of the garage is filled with motorcycles, the other with a wide variety of trucks. I gaze at one of the metallic midnight blue bikes in the center and step closer. No emblems adorn the tank and I puzzle over the lines for a moment before drawing Eliot's attention.

"Harley?" I ask and at Eliot's look I feel incredibly stupid.

"No, it's a Kawasaki Vulcan 1600, custom pipes. I pry all the emblems off, makes people guess." He says, a smirk coming to his face. I nod and look up and down the row

"Ya know, I always figured you for a crotch rocket type." Eliot's hand hovers over a handlebar.

"I use to ride them when I was younger. Take one too many spills going over eighty and you decide to keep it safe. But I do have one, incase I need the speed to get away." He hints and walks over to a covered bike. Pulling the covering off I stare at the Kawasaki Ninja, beaten to hell the bike has massive road burn down one side and I glance up at the man. Eliot rubs a hand over the back of his neck and gives a soft laugh

"Yeah, I had a little accident." He remarks but straddles the bike none the less.

"I had one of the ones they removed from the market because too many idiots were buying them and killing themselves, but I got a good deal when I bought this one." He says, not unlike any other man in a garage. Eliot looks at home on a motorcycle of any kind really, he has that quality to him where he would appreciate the freedom it provides.

"Well, I'm too old to be riding around on one of those. I prefer my car." I smile and Eliot gives a chuckle, standing and swinging his leg over the back. Recovering the Black and gunmetal grey bike and stares down his line of bikes.

"Next to horses, motorcycles are the next step to freedom." He says softly and I smile to myself, knowing the man is a free spirit above all else. The mood seems to have developed into a melancholy one so I turn it away, gesturing to the collection of trucks.

"How about we take _that_ one." I point to the massive vehicle and Eliot gets a truly sardonic smirk.

"That truck is my baby." He grabs a set of keys out of a cabinet as I step close to appreciate the truck.

"1986 Chevrolet 4x4 with a six inch lift. Fully restored in my off time, correct to manufactures specs. Got Super Swampers for the tires. This truck will go through _everything_." Eliot rattles off like I know what he's talking about. I picked this one because it was the biggest out of them all. Eliot's already up in the cab and firing up the throaty engine.

"Do you need a milk crate?" Eliot says mockingly and I frown at him, hauling myself up into the beast. With a laugh Eliot eases the truck out of the garage and we head off to scope out the bar sites and try to figure out how to work this so no one get's hurt.

**Author Note: **I am a huge Motorcycle and Truck fanatic. My parents rode a 1997 Kawasaki Vulcan 1500 but sadly it had to be junked due to a very bad accident in which both my parents were badly injured a few months ago. Anyway I was watching LockDown on TV the other night and got a really, really good idea for another story, so don't be surprised if you see another pop up soon.

I don't like this chapter, it served the purpose of showing a unity between the characters but that's all really. Next one we'll be getting down and dirty with the scam. Please review and I'll update again soon!


	11. Chapter 11

**Title: **Decisions that I Make

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** Eliot is the silent enigma, always suspicious and secretive. But when he is injured by a mysterious attacker the group of thieves learns more about the enigmatic man.

**Author Note: **I have recently picked up Into the West, the mini series in which Kane plays Abe Wheeler a half native American who works for the Pony Express and then for the Railroad. He was only in two episodes which I was bummed about simply because A) Christian Kane is a hottie and B) I kind of wanted to see what the character would do next. But alas, it was not meant to be. Also, did you guys know he was the driver of the red car in Carrie Underwood's music video for So Small? I didn't know this until I was looking at his myspace page and saw the picture. So yeah, please enjoy this chapter and leave me a review!

**Chapter 11: Playing Field**

"We decided on a bar for this all to go down in." I announce from the counter before taking a bite out of a potato I'd stolen from the batch Eliot's peeling at the sink. With a growl the retrieval specialist scoops the spuds away from anyone else's hands and into a pot. Sophie looks back from where her and Parker are sitting on the couch

"Oh really?" she asks and I nod, swallowing the section of pale vegetable before responding.

"Yes, it's called _Mallory's _and Eliot knows the owner. He struck up a deal with Mr. Mallory and agreed to bartend for him during the week. I meant to ask you, how is it that Mallory was kind enough to let us put our own people into his establishment?" I ask, turning having decided against asking Eliot on the way back. Hardison stops his typing and focuses his attention on the potato peeling team member. Eliot chuckles softly and flips the knife around in his hand nervously before turning around to put the pot of spuds on the stove.

"Frank Mallory was a friend of my father's and I went to school with his son and daughters. Frank knows what I do and what I'm into and always said that if I needed anything to just ask him, so that's why he was so understanding when I spoke to him this afternoon and seemed surprised to see me." He informs blue eyes sincere before turning back around to finish preparing dinner. The past few days we'd been living off of take out food, but on the way back from _Mallory's_ Eliot stopped off at the store and picked up ingredients to make us a home cooked meal.

"Daughters? Is this one of the girls who married another guy?" Hardison asks and I turn quickly, having thought Amy was the woman. Sophie and Parker both turn around, eyes on the enigmatic man as he bends down into a cabinet and pulls out a frying pan.

"But I thought you and Amy were an item? I mean she did seem ticked off at you because you left for so long…" Parker trails off as Eliot turns a glaring eye at the woman

"Alright, listen. Amy was from _Kentucky_, that girl was from _Omaha _and my personal life is none of your business." He snaps, the cast iron pan hitting the stove top with a decisive sound, effectively ending the conversation. From the couch I can hear the whispering of the two girls while they gossip but decide to stay out of it. Hardison make a triumphant noise and I turn to him

"Ha! Three days of hacking I finally got into the NCIC database. Now, this joint holds all the records of every felon ever caught, from your Charles Manson murderer to your garden variety drug runner." He explains, rapidly typing on the laptop.

"I'm looking up Victor Fayande, see what the man has for priors and such… uh oh." I cock and eyebrow at the end of that sentence. We all wait for Hardison to continue, Eliot's holding a slab of _something_ over the frying pan, knife held tightly while Sophie and Parker stare over.

"Someone nudge him, I think he's broken." Parker finally says, getting anxious.

"No, it's just I don't think I've seen a rap sheet this long. He has, among other things, harassment of a witness, kidnapping, fraud, and assault. My god the list goes on and on." He says, slightly mortified by the listings. I turn to look at Eliot who only shrugs

"Yeah, I know how to pick 'em." Before returning to his cooking. Sophie is beside me, her hands on her hips and a concerned look overtaking her face.

"Nate, what if he recognizes us?" she asks and I quickly shut down those fears

"There's no way. Figure Fayande spends most of his time in Canada or Europe, Asia South America, he rarely sets foot here in the states due to the warrants right? So the only way he'd know of you three is if you did work for him before." I explain, already setting the motion into plan. Sophie seems to accept this explanation and heads for the kitchen, softly asking Eliot if he wanted help.

"Hardison, look up Kim Pryor. P-r-y-o-r." he spells out and I watch as Hardison quickly types in the name. The search hits on a match and pulls up a file. I wince at the size of the man.

"This, this is the guy who beat you up?" I ask, amazed that the smaller man is still alive. Eliot makes a noise but I keep my attention on the man's specs.

"Wow, he's a big boy. Height, six foot four inches, weight, two hundred seventy two." Parker reads off and I look over at our five foot eight inch retrieval specialist and am amazed that his head isn't caved in or horribly disfigured.

"But he has a girly name, how tough can he be?" Parker asks from above Hardison and I turn as choking catches my ear. Eliot's coughing over the sink with Sophie hitting his back lightly.

"Tough enough to put our own resident Rambo into the hospital." Hardison remarks. Eliot seems to regain his breath and turns, pointing a knife at parker, his blue eyes holding a joke

"Tell ya what Parker, when we see him next I'll let you tell him that." Parker seems happy with the notion and bops away, pony tail swinging.

**=The next night= **

**(Eliot)**

Bar tending is an easy job, hardest part is dealing with the drunks who think their stories matter. _Mallory's_ polished cherry wood bar top is lined with the condensation rings of beers and other mixed drinks, the regulars happily ignoring the fact that their tender isn't the usual. I stand behind the top, plunging my hand into the ice bucket to start mixing up another Margarita for Parker. Nate works the other end of the bar, his patrons mostly asking for beers and shots, simple drinks. Dressed alike in the _Mallory's_ tender uniform, blue jeans with a black embroidered collared shirt we started slinging drinks about two hours ago with no sign of Kim. Sophie and Parker are patrolling the room, Parker as a waitress and Sophie as a regular, her abilities to get information out of anyone got her the job of wondering through the drinkers. Nate steps over as I put the final touches on the Margarita and put it up on the bar top between the two polished rods. Parker catches my eye and I nod as she takes the drink to the table. I lean against the back bar and fold a towel

"Do you think he'll show?" he asks, stepping only close enough to make it look like we're exchanging words related to the profession to anyone who is watching.

"I don't know, but my skin is itching like crazy at being bait for this bastard." I growl at him, rubbing my forearm. Being out in the open and exposed like this makes my skin crawl, the idea of anyone recognizing me from former stations with the military or bystanders to a job I did. Even with my hair cut and my eyes a different color and the earrings I don't have faith in myself for not giving away some recognizable mannerism. Anyone who approaches the bar sends my mind whirling, its nerve wracking and exhausting but it needs to be done.

"Hey! Can I get service here?" I tense up at the accent and risk a glance down the bar. I swallow back the bile rising in my throat, Nate seems to notice and asks silently and I nod, licking my lips.

"Be right with you." Nate calls and the behemoth of a man huff but stands at the end. My hands are shaking and I will them to stop, to not be afraid but when someone kicks the living hell out of you, your body tends to remember it and reacts accordingly. Nate claps me on the shoulder and I take breath, heading back to serving my mixed drink clients but keeping an eye on the massive person at the other end. Nate tends to him, giving him a mug of Blue Moon before taking in other orders. Parker returns, settling herself against the bar top and survey's the room. I lean in and smile as I whisper into the blond woman's ear

"He's here, massive man sipping the frosted mug." Before chuckling slightly and backing away. Parker nods and weaves her way into the crowd, contacting Sophie. Making up a Dirty Pond Water and a Fishbone I hand them to the men who ordered and then turn, finding my worst nightmare happening. Kim had a photograph of me, a bit outdated but still me, and is asking Nate if he's seen me. I can't help but feel the nervous flutter as Nate sets down the explanation we all made up. Kim seems to buy it and sits back, hauling his beer before ordering another. I turn around and wipe at the counter, making myself busy when the voice behind me sends shivers down my spine, the accent echoing in my head

"Can I get a Rob Roy." I turn slowly and find Fayande sitting there, his pudgy face glaring at me from under the fedora. I gulp and stare for a moment, trying to gauge if the man knows it's me. I can see the light in his eyes and hold back a groan my mind shouting at me to run and get away.

He knows!

A smile breaks the fat face in two and I cringe away as he laughs

"Ha ha, well played young Mr. Spencer. But not well enough." He stands and I'm paralyzed, like a deer in the headlights I'm stuck unable to move, unable to speak. My eyes dart to Nate who is glancing down my way and then they search for Parker but she's on the floor, her mouth bleeding and eyes unfocused. My heart pounds in my chest as Kim stands, his manic laughter drawing the attention of everyone in the bar. I still can't move as Kim swings a crowbar, slamming the end into Nate's head. I watch as the lead con man is thrown back by the force, his neck stretched ruthlessly as he falls to the floor, blood seeping from his nose and ears. Fayande laughs maliciously at the cries from the patrons. Sophie screams my name and I look to where she's cornered, hands raised in pleading as Kim swings the bar again, her cry cut off as her body slumps to the floor.

"Thought you could escape…. There is no escape." Fayande laughs and I feel tears leaking down my face as I look at my friends' bodies. Hardison cries from the backroom as the door is slammed open, Kim's deep chuckles drowning out Hardison's voice. The sickening crunch of metal on bone ending the sounds and I let the tears fall as Kim comes out and stands beside me, the crow bar dripping with thick blood and fresh brain matter.

"ELIOT!" I jolt awake at the voice, swinging automatically at the source. Tears stream from my eyes as I give a warrior's yell and keep swinging. My other hand grasps the cool handle of the hunting knife I keep beneath my pillow and I bring that up, earning a sharp cry. I can't see anything, the room is dark but I can _hear_ them, their there, lurking in the darkness.

"I won't go to the darkness without a fight…." I mutter and swing the blade out, lashing out at the voices in the darkness.

**Author Note: **Whoa cliff hanger! I know, I'm cruel but I had to do something to make up for the last chapter's dullness. So please review and I'll update again over the weekend. Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

**Title: **Decisions that I Make

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** Eliot is the silent enigma, always suspicious and secretive. But when he is injured by a mysterious attacker the group of thieves learns more about the enigmatic man.

**Author Note: **Pretty intense stuff going down with Nate and Eliot. Might be doing a one shot about that or something. Next week's episode looks so good, I can't wait. Hopefully someone gets injured, that's be perfect. Anyway, an update for you! Please enjoy.

**Chapter 12: Don't be alarmed **

**(Nate)**

It was the scream that jolted me awake, the inhuman cry of someone in extreme pain echoing from the loft. My body is moving faster than my mind, befuddled and half awake I stumble up the steps, blinking wildly. The loft is dark except for the hard illumination of a bedside clock and the blank numbers on a piece of equipment. He's tangled in the bed sheets, one shadowed leg kicking out with deadly accuracy at something only he can see while his arms flail, fists curled into deadly weapons of his trade. Behind me I hear the others, their footsteps loud and breathing hard. Parker and Sophie reach me first, Sophie gives a motherly gasp and tries to move foreword but I grab her arm, shaking my head. Eliot is a trained fighter, his complete skills remain to be seen but I know from just watching the man that he could kill any one of us without a single hesitation. We've all come to be comfortable with the idea of sitting and working beside a walking, breathing weapon, but in a time like this, the threat of him harming one of us multiplies.

"You guys hang back." I order softly and approach the bed, unsure of what to do for a man who is usually so composed and impenetrable with rough words and the hard stone shell. To see him now, hair slick with sweat and face open with raw emotion nearly rips the heart out of a man, especially when you take into consideration how _young_ Eliot is and what he's seen. At thirty-five I was still considered a greenhorn insurance agent, good at what I did but not experienced with the measures a thief will take to get away and not be caught. I think it was the case with Eliot that brought into the light the true brutality of their world--- my world now. He was a scrawny thing back then, all wild eyes and rapid movements, like a wild thing unleashed into a new world.

"ELIOT!" I shout at the man and for a moment he pauses then awareness comes back into the blue orbs, lashing out automatically I narrowly avoid a well aimed punch. Eliot yells and swings again.

"Nate! Watch it!" I step back in time to avoid the slashing knife, clutched in the white knuckled hand. Wide, blue eyes stare at me a ragged growl rumbles in his chest. His grip shifts on the knife, deadly accurate and sure. The blue eyes are not focused on the 'here and now' but in a nightmarish hell that only he can see.

"I won't go into the darkness without a fight…." He mutters as he swings again, this time however Parker is ready and tackles the fighter to the bed and grabbing onto his knife wielding hand. Hardison promptly launches himself at the man, laying his whole body weight across the other as Eliot struggles for a few moment, his growls and curses, trying to fight back. I grab the knife, twisting Eliot's wrist sharply before tossing the weapon to Sophie who quickly disposes of it. Sophie states at the dog pile on top of Eliot, who seems to have given up fighting and is just laying still, breathing heavily.

"He was intent on killing you… all of us." She states, shock and fear heavy in her words. I nod slowly and step closer to Parker who is heaving for air and Hardison who is drumming a rhythm on Eliot's heaving chest, trying to calm him down and bring him back to the real world. I kneel beside his head, finding the blue eyes clearing, blinking back the fog of his nightmare.

"Get. Off. Me." He snarls and bucks his body, trying to dislodge Parker and Hardison, eyes and face set in a mask of unmistakable fury.

"No, not until I know you won't attack us." I explain smoothly and his eyes widen, head dropping back onto the bed with a soft _plop_.

"What are you doin' sleepin' with a knife under your pillow man?" Hardison asks, his eyes wide and staring as Eliot tries to shrug, a wince and silent cry coming to his features.

"Alright, off. I think he's awake now." I order and slowly Hardison get back to the floor, while Parker makes a point of jabbing the already hurting man in the ribs, earning a choked yelp. I stand above him and watch as Eliot props himself up, shakily runs a hand over his face. I can see the marks of his trade, the faded scars and burns, numerous healed stitch marks, including something that looks deceptively like a dog bite wound.

"What happened?" he asks slowly and for a moment I'm shocked, how could he not remember what just happened? I'm about to ask when Sophie marches foreword and promptly smacks Eliot across the face, her temper flaring. She's about to wind for another when Eliot's hand slices out and catches the slender wrist.

"Hit me again and you will regret it." He snarls softly, standing up. Clad in only his boxers the anger he's feeling must over ride any kind of self consciousness he has. Parker sucks in a breath while Sophie's brown eyes look him up and down, forgetting for a moment that he could snap her wrist in two with just a squeeze.

"Talk to us Eliot, what happened? You were pretty intent on killing something with that knife… what was it, what did you see?" Sophie asks, softening her voice as she reaches out to touch his face. Suddenly Eliot moves, releasing her hand and stepping away, blue eyes flaring.

"Nothing, just a nightmare." He mutters, turning to grab a pair of running pants and a shirt he stalks past, heading down stairs. From below us I hear the bathroom door slam and the water being turned on. I sigh and look at the other members of the team, finding they are almost as badly shaken as I am.

"Coffee?" I ask and a collective nod sends us all to the kitchen. I watch the closed bathroom door, wondering what was going on behind the thick wood and brass fixtures.

**(Eliot) **

My body is covered in a fine sheen of sweat, sticky and gross I used that as an excuse to get away from the accusing looks of Nate and the others. Behind the solid door they can't see me, sitting on the tub side shaking from the left over nightmare. My mom's mother believed highly in the old ways of her people, often she would say that the dreams were actually visions or premonitions of the future. Back then, as a boy I never believed the old stories of visions, still don't really. But something about that nightmare seemed so _real_ so _personal_ that it couldn't be pushed off by chance. Leaning foreword I close my eyes and will my body to stop shaking, will the images of my friends dying at the hands of Kim and his crowbar.

"This will not happen." I vow softly to myself and stand, repeating the mantra over and over as I stand under the warm spray. I hate myself, threatening to hurt Sophie like that. I stare down at my calloused hands, still feeling the warmth of her skin against mine, the heat from the slap still lingering on my face, the anger at being struck. It is so easy to just loose control and hurt one of them, so easy to slip up and injure someone. Pushing my hands against the tile I relax my shoulders, letting the tension be pounded out by the spray.

"I have to tell them about the dream, make them prepared." I tell myself, drawing small figures in the moisture collection on the wall. Everything inside of me is screaming at me to send them away, don't get them involved. But another, small part now atrophied from years of being unused can't push them away, that part wants to hold them beside me and use their strength to fill in where mine is failing.

Where the hell did that part of me come from?

Been the lone wolf and the aggressor so long that I'd forgotten what it's like to have people around to depend on, the feelings of security they provide. Decided on what needs to be done I shut off the shower and dry off, shaving a bit as well before getting dressed. Stepping out of the bathroom I'm greeted with the smell of fresh coffee and the soft chatter of the team. They all stop talking in unison and a shiver goes through me, like a class room full of friends and the new kid walks in. Heading over that way I wordlessly reach for the kettle, finding it already set on low and boiling. Nodding my thanks to the collective group I get my morning tea and steep it, leaning myself against the counter.

"Listen, I am sorry for what happened earlier and apologize if I frightened you. You all have to understand, I've been alone for a long time and have developed a… sixth sense of sorts, I react to what I perceive as a threat, ask questions later." I trail off, glancing up quickly before looking back down at the mug of steaming tea.

"I had a nightmare… as you can tell. Uh, in it, you all died at the hands of Kim and Fayande sat at the bar, laughing while you all died. There wasn't a damn thing I could do…" Sophie puts down her cup and moves towards me, her motherly eyes conveying her non hostile motions. I step away, not wanting the woman to touch me for fear of snapping again.

"So, what was this? A premonition of sorts?" Parker asks and I glance up at her,

"I hope not…" I begin but am cut off by Nate

"Well, if it was we are going to see to it that it doesn't come true. Don't worry Eliot, nothing is going to happen to us." He assures and I nod my head, the feeling of dread still balling itself in the pit of my stomach.

I hope my grandmother's stories weren't right.

**Author Note: **I had the urge to make Eliot get slapped by Sophie for some reason. Figured someone should slap him, might as well be the obnoxious woman. I don't _hate_ Sophie, I just don't like the play she has with Nate, I have an issue with that. Also, I can't wait for next week, it looks like some interesting stuff's gunna go down. Like a bomb and a car trying to run over the guys. Oh this should be good. Please review, I appreciate it!


	13. Chapter 13

**Title: **Decisions that I Make

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** Eliot is the silent enigma, always suspicious and secretive. But when he is injured by a mysterious attacker the group of thieves learns more about the enigmatic man.

**Author Note: **Wow, you guys are utterly and totally amazing. You make me humble with your reviews and words of encouragement. I was IM'd by someone, (and if it was you I apologize I was out snow blowing my driveway and by the time I got back in you had signed off) asking

_Hey, u nvr do romance, y is that? Ur a gd author, but all ur fics are angst or drama. Gets boring. Write romance! Pair Eliot w/ some1 plz! _

I don't write romance for the simple fact that I suck at romantic scenes. I usually get annoyed and kill someone off so I can spice up that character's life. Then the mourning process lasts maybe 1 chapter and it's done, back to business. I also _hate_ making an OC involved with the characters in anyway. Bad guys, yes, I'll make up bad guys because in the end their asses are going to get kicked anyway, so who cares and with a show like Leverage there isn't a 'main' or repetitive bad person to every episode (I dunno what Sterling is, other than a pain in the ass who aired in one episode) so I make up bad people. Oh and Sam in this story, but she was a needed character who doesn't play a big part (forgot that Sam was also Nate's kids name -.- ;; sorry Nate) I will not create an obnoxious and unrealistic character for the hell of creating one, also Mary-Sues suck, therefore I do not use them.

I think I'm done. (checks) yup. Onto the fic which was written to the soothing music by Disturbed. Please enjoy and review!

**Chapter 13: Master of War **

**(Eliot) **

"You park the truck." I tell Nate, opening the door to the black pickup and getting out. Slamming the door behind me I run a hand through my short hair and straighten my _Mallory's_ uniform. Glaring at the red and blue neon sign I wait for Nate to catch up so we can walk in together. The streets are busy, people bustle by me without a second glance and I make sure to stay close to the parking meters to avoid being hit by a wayward pedestrian. Inside the bar Parker, Sophie and Hardison are waiting, their chatter coming through the earpiece. I ignore it, tuning it out and centering myself for the night's festivities. All day the nightmarish vision of my cohorts being killed has haunted me all day. Nate touches my shoulder and I flinch, moving away from the man

"Ready?" he asks and I nod, licking my lips nervously and step foreword, regardless of what my mind is screaming at me. Upon entering the bar I inhale the stale air permeated with cigarette smoke and the sharp scent of liquor. Frank looks up from behind the bar and waves slightly as I head over, grabbing his outstretched hand.

"I figure you know what your doing Eliot, any trouble just let me know I'll be upstairs." He says and I nod, reassuring the man I know how to mix the drinks his regulars order and even some obscure ones. Heading in behind the bar I grab the apron on the ice bin and start dealing drinks.

**(Nate)**

"Thank you again Mr. Mallory for letting us do this in your bar." I offer and the older man only smiles and waves at me

"No thanks needed Mr. Ford. I told that boy long ago that should he ever need anything that all he had to do was ask. So much like his father that boy, always roaming from place to place." He shakes his head, eyes becoming sad

"I'd had hoped he'd eventually settled down once he got out of the forces but, being just like his daddy he can't seem to get the adventure and thrill seeking out of his blood. My own daughter Leanne couldn't tame him and she was a wild lass." I realize the wealth of information this man is and sit down at the end of the bar, making sure to stay in sight of Eliot, intent on talking to Mr. Mallory.

"So, you've known Eliot since he was a kid?" I ask conversationally and the older man nods, his eyes knowing as he smiles at me

"I know why you're asking Mr. Ford, trying to learn more about that boy than he's willing to tell you I assume. Alright, I'll give." He smiles, grabbing two glasses and filling them with some beer from the tap. Pushing a mug my way he settles down onto the chair beside me and takes a sip.

"His father's name was Thomas, lord only knows where that man is now and his mother was called Charisma, although I am not so certain it was her real name." he nudges my arm and takes a sip of his beer while I deflect a curious glare sent my way by the man in question.

"Now don't get me wrong, Charisma was a good woman and raised both Eliot and Sam up right but something in her snapped and she started going crazy. One day she up and left; leaving Thomas with a crops to harvest and two kids to take care of. Oh, old Thomas did the best he could, made sure both kids did well in school and did their chores but it was hard on the man. My wife and I would help him where we could, taking the kids a few night a week so Thomas could rest and relax, but eventually the farm started to fall apart and Sam, being the little bitch--- 'scuse my language, would rave at her father something fierce. Eliot started coming home with detentions for fighting and bad grades." He shakes his head, looking over at Eliot who is slinging beers like a pro. Parker and Sophie are moving about as waitresses, always heading to the bar to put in orders for drinks.

"Sam got on Thomas' last nerve and she was shipped to his parents in Kentucky while Eliot stayed behind. Mr. Ford, that boy was forced to grow up much too fast, his father depended on him for everything, cooking, cleaning, bill paying. He's a smart lad, don't let his ability and love for brawling deceive you, beneath those wild blue eyes is a tactical mind and a wealth of information. Figure that's what makes him a good retriever, his ability to sort out and take care of problems that may arise." I nod, having seen that mind in action before.

"So, what happened to his father?" I ask, sipping at the beer.

"Thomas? Who knows. Last I saw the man he was emotionally exhausted and without Eliot. I managed to get the truth out of him that he has sent Eliot to Kentucky and gave him a place to sleep. Next morning the man was gone and haven't seen him since." He says sadly, his eyes watching as Eliot deftly flips a bottle of Vodka, earning the claps of several female patrons.

" Although the road set before him as boy was hard I think he turned out alright, maybe not in the right side of law, but he's got a good head on those shoulders and somehow made the life work for him, that's all a man can ask for. If my Emily was still here she'd comment on what a charmer he's grown into." Frank chuckles into his drink and I let the man work through his own memories before prodding further.

"Uh Nate, we got a problem." Hardison remarks through the earpiece from the backroom where he's watching the cameras he'd set up earlier.

"What is it?" I ask, trying not to draw attention to myself.

"Kim is walking into the bar, he looks mad as hell too." I glance at the door as it's thrown open and the massive form of the Canadian comes stalking in. Frank looks back and frowns, his eyes flicking to me a silent question and I nod. His eyes widen and then he looks down at Eliot who is still slinging beers and drinks but obviously had seen Kim enter. His hand shakes ever so slightly, nothing huge but noticeable to me. Catching the eye of any man in the room daring enough to look at him Kim plods through, his icy eyes scanning the room. He seats himself at a table in the back and I nod to Sophie who moves quickly over to take his order.

**(Eliot) **

Kim has entered the building and I feel my body go into shock.

Then anger.

The images from the nightmare coming back and it fills me with rage. My hands shake and I slam the glass down on the bar top, cracking it. Several of the woman who had been watching me a moment ago give a scream and back quickly away. Kim's icy eyes are on me and I seethe, my vision going red. A smile comes to the ragged features of the large man and he stands, gently moving Sophie aside and stalks towards the bar. I can hear Nate snarling at me through the earpiece but I ignore him, my rage in full swing.

"Ah, cut your hair I see, changed your features. Your prettier this way, I'd have something else to do with you but I have my orders. Too bad, we'd have fun." He smirks dangerously and the rage boils over at his words. Snarling like a wild thing I launch myself at the tormentor who has been so relentless. Grabbing out I snap my hand around the man's windpipe and squeeze, Kim slams his massive hand down on my forearm, effectively breaking the hold but the anger is snapping and snarling and I come back for more.

The images repeat themselves, my friends bleeding on the floor, cries of pain echoing in my ears and suddenly _I'm not there_ I am soaked in the red anger, my vision going red as years of torment, pain and abuse comes boiling to the surface. Before I know it I'm up and over the counter, lunging at Kim noticing belatedly that he's laughing.

Loud laughter that drowns out the screams of patrons and the cries of my friends.

I lock my eyes on Kim's own icy ones and smile savagely.

Kim swings his beefy fist.

I bring up my own.

Oh yeah, this is gunna be good.

**Author Note: **Uhh... Cliffy. I'm sorry. Please review, next chapter coming up. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Title: **Decisions that I Make

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** Eliot is the silent enigma, always suspicious and secretive. But when he is injured by a mysterious attacker the group of thieves learns more about the enigmatic man.

**Author Note: **Ready for the fight!!? Can I just tell you that this was the hardest part to write, simply because so much motion has to take place and not much dialog and I'm a sucker for dialog. So, without further ado, please enjoy the following death match between Kim and Eliot.

**Chapter 14: Who will save you?**

**(Nate) **

I watch in horror and shock as the beefy fist of Kim slams into the muscular upper arm of Eliot, making the smaller man's body shudder from the impact. Eliot, to his due credit doesn't back down, his fists flashing out lighting fast to jab at the larger man, hitting him in the nose and jaw. Blood sprays from the Canadian's mouth and pours from his nose, but he keeps coming. Kim has size and strength to his advantage where as the much smaller Eliot has speed and dexterity. I watch with some amusement as the smaller man dances around the larger, his feet always moving in some way as he slams his balled fists home. First the gullet, trying to knock the wind from the larger man, then the kidneys which is a place of overwhelming pain, Kim staggers at the low blows but sweeps his massive arm out, catching Eliot in a vicious backhand that sends the specialist reeling. Staggering against the bar stools with eyes wide as the behemoth advances Eliot's hand grabs one of the stools and swings it with deadly accuracy. Kim brings up his forearm, stopping the blow from landing and then using his own bulk to pin Eliot to the bar.

"We have to help him!" Sophie shouts from over my earpiece and I look up, trying to pinpoint the woman and find her and parker closer to the back, huddled close together. Parker's eyes are narrowed with annoyance as she watches the large man attack Eliot. I shake my head, seeing the spark of an idea flash through the young blond thief and shout out

"Parker!" but it's too late. The very unpredictable woman, in a rare moment of predictability lunges at the man, a beer bottle clasped in one hand as she latches herself onto Kim's back, smashing the bottle on the side of his head, glass splinters wildly and the large man gives a yell before tearing the clinging Parker from his back and tossing her across the room. Sophie is beside the stunned thief, helping to move her out of the way of the fight. Eliot gives an inhuman growl and shoves the stool away from him, knocking the distracted Kim off balance before kicking out at the man's knees. Kim staggers as Eliot backs way out of reach, his face dripping with sweat and blood, eyes hollow and angry. Beside me Frank gives a curse and is about to move in when I grab him, ushering him towards the door.

"That's my bar he's destroying!" Frank protests loudly, arms flailing as he tries to get past me. I seize the man and stare hard at him

"We will pay you for the damages, now go, Eliot wouldn't forgive himself if something happened to you." I reason and for a brief moment the older man looks about ready to fight again but he relents and quickly heads outside where the other guests have taken refuge from the two raging men. Turning my attention back to Sophie and Parker I find them both on their feet again, helping in the only way by throwing beer mugs and bottles at the man while Eliot ducks under a few more blows. Hardison is shouting from the back room, watching the fight on his laptop, cheering the specialist on.

"You're going to be mine pretty boy." Kim laughs, catching Eliot in the kidney's with a well aimed punch. Eliot gasps and falls to his knee, blood dripping from his mouth and hands already beginning to bruise. He's exhausted and in pain, that much I can tell, his breathing labored and wheezing.

"But first I'm going to take care of your little friends." He snickers and any thought I had of that fire slowly dying in Eliot's eyes is extinguished, blue fire of anger and hatred blaze back as he glares at the larger man. With effort Eliot brings himself to his feet and wipes at his mouth with a cut up arm, his blood boiling. Kim only laughs harder, his mouth foaming with red as launches himself at the smaller man. In the last second Eliot dodges the charge, twisting around wildly to bring his clasped fists down on the man's lower back, earning him a grunt of pain from Kim. Sophie gives a cheer as the large man goes down, barely catching himself on the bar as Eliot advances, his face set in a stoic mask and eyes promising death.

"wha-didja do? Can…can nt feel mah legsah…" the man garbles out, trying desperately to get away as Eliot shoves him down, using a booted foot to hold him to the floor but his neck. Chest heaving, blood staining his face and dripping from his chin Eliot looks very much like a harbinger of death, his fists poised and ready to strike. I watch closely, unsure if I should stop the elite fighter from taking this too far, unsure of how _this_ Eliot would react to me stopping him from exacting his revenge on a man who tormented him for so long.

_This_ Eliot

_That_ Eliot

_This_ Eliot is a man of death and pain, every move is meant to cause hurt to anyone stupid enough to get in his way. _This_ Eliot, with his cold look and fiery eyes sends chills down my spine just to be this close to him. _This_ Eliot was trained by our own government to e a killer, to take down anyone threatening him. _This_ Eliot is what is kept down inside, the angry thing prowling behind the blue eyes of _That _Eliot.

_That _Eliot is the man I wish I could see now, the cool calculating glares and the husky southern drawl. _That_ Eliot, although capable of taking a fight this far usually doesn't _let_ it get this far. _That _Eliot who is always a charmer and easy to both please and piss off.

_That _Eliot is the man I wish I could see now, the cool calculating glares and the husky southern drawl. _That_ Eliot, although capable of taking a fight this far usually doesn't _let_ it get this far. _That _Eliot who is always a charmer and easy to both please and piss off.

_That_ ids the Eliot I want back and judging by the looks on Parker and Sophie's faces they want him back as well. Hardison has gone silent over the ear piece and I look over to the doorway to the back, finding his eyes wide and mouth open.

"Using your foreword motion and my downward thrust I drove your spine past the point of breaking… you'll be lucky if surgeons can take out the splinters before they do _more_ damage you son of a bitch." Eliot's cold drawl snarls at the whimpering man, his boot pressed firmly on his throat, closing off his windpipe. Blood dribbles from his chin as the cold eyes snap to me, a growl rumbling.

"Eliot… you need to stop. He won't be going anywhere and you're scaring the women." I tell him, keeping my arms up to show him I am unarmed and not dangerous. The cold eyes watch me for a moment longer and I can see the two Eliot's warring with each other as they casually flick over to where Sophie and Parker are standing, Sophie's eyes are wet with moister and Parker looks slightly worried, standing slightly in front of the other woman. Moving so I can get a better look at Eliot I can see the cold fury in his eyes die down and they soften slightly. With motions no longer fluid with adrenaline fed energy Eliot stumbles away from the other man, his steps unsure and fingers shaking badly

"Shh… it's alright. I'm not gunna hurt you ladies." He coos softly at Parker and Sophie stopping only a few feet from them, his eyes growing blank.

"Nate!"

"ELIOT!"

Parker and Sophie scramble to grab the falling man as Hardison leaps around the destruction of overturned stools and tables, shoes crunching the broken glass. I grab the man's sweat soaked upper body and gently lower him to the floor, easing him back.

"We need to get out of here… cops are comin'." Hardison says, words clipped with worry and I nod. Easing Eliot back up I feel him tense and look down, finding his face frozen in a silent cry.

"Eliot?" I ask and for a moment fear seizes my stomach and my heart pumps ice water through my veins. His eyes are unfocused and blinking rapidly while his fingers grope out, seeking some kind of purchase. The scream of sirens draw closer and closer and I make my decisions, hauling Eliot up I get him on his feet, a loud cry tearing from the younger man's lips as his eyes screw shut. Once on his feet it's obvious there is something wrong with his knee, the whole leg shaking and swelling against the blue jeans. Sophie and Parker help by clearing the way as Hardison and I slip Eliot's lax arms over our shoulders, heading for the back doorway that leads to the panel van in the back ally. From outside I can hear Frank shouting at the police, claiming a crazy man just burst into his bar and started tearing up the place and I send a silent prayer to whoever is listening for the man's quick wit.

"Okay, back to Eliot's." I order as Hardison and I maneuver the now unconscious man into the van before slamming the door. Parker clutches the wheel with white knuckles and peels away from the scene, the van's engine whining madly.

**+ Eliot's Apartment +**

"Damn, he's covered in blood." Hardison remarks as we ease the man through the doorway. Sophie runs ahead and gathers some towels and spreads them down on the couch before backing away quickly. Gently we ease the wounded fighter down on the couch before stepping back. Eliot's short cropped hair is matted with blood and sweat while his face is a mask of drying red matter. Blue jeans are torn while his shirt is in tatters, a large hole gaping the side. I start to ease the black combat type boots from the man's feet, wanting him out of the jeans before his knee swells too much. Hardison quickly gets the idea and begins untying the other.

"Sophie, go start up a bath we need to get him cleaned up so we can take stock of the injuries. Parker get some scissors we need to cut this pant leg." I call to the two women and they quickly set to work, Sophie heading for the bathroom and Parker to hunt around in the kitchen drawers. Hardison gently leans the wounded specialist up so I can maneuver the ruined _Mallory's_ shirt, leaving Eliot bare. Hardison makes a gagging noise at the horrific bruising rapidly starting to overtake the muscular chest. Parker arrives with the scissors and hands them to me wordlessly, her eyes scanning stoically over the wounded man before she moves to lean against the back of the couch, gently playing with his hair and humming. Not giving the strange action any thought I fight with the tough jeans, finally managing to shred them up past his wounded knee. Hardison quickly moves away a hand covering his mouth while Parker only leans in closer, a shocked look coming to her face.

"Well, I think it's dislocated." I stare down at the angry swelling and the livid black and blues. Hardison, casting a glance over only shakes his head

"No way man, look at it. It reset itself; his leg line is straight so that means his knee cap was kicked out of place. It's just the swelling that's left now." I glance over at the man and he shrugs

"One of the kids who stayed with my Nana dislocated his knee one time. I listened to the doctor that's all." I look at the hacker for a few more seconds before sighing.

"Alright, well. Let's get him moved and cleaned up."

"Wait, how are you going to do that exactly?" Hardison asks

"I had a son Hardison, I think I can take care of cleaning him up." I glare and for a moment Hardison looks about ready to relent when his face turns serious

"But this is _Eliot_, this is the guy who can _kill_ you by simply snapping his fingers. He isn't some little kid, I'm sure he'd be mightily annoyed when he finds out you _undressed_ him." Parker snorts as Sophie returns and Hardison looks slightly disturbed.

"Alright, Hardison help me get Eliot to the bathroom and into the tub then I want you to keep and eye on the situation at _Mallory's_. Parker I want you to go to a hospital and get crutches, knee immobilizer, suture kits and anything else you can think of. Sophie get this couch set up for our patient." I order and slowly stoop to take Eliot's weight. Hardison moves in beside me quickly and together we shuffle the wounded man to the bathroom.

Three hours later we all managed to get settled in, laying about Eliot's living room in various positions while the wounded specialist rests under a mound of blankets. The swollen knee is propped up by four pillows. Parker arrived back about an hour ago with the items she swiped from the local hospital and with some Chinese food.

"What are you going to tell him when he wakes up?" Sophie asks before taking a bite of her rice. I glance at the Grifter and slurp up a spoonful of soup, ready to answer her when the husky and sleepy voice interrupts.

"Yeah Nate…. Whatcha gunna tell me?" I turn quickly, finding the sleepy blue eyes staring at me from under a mound of blankets. A shiver seems to run through the man as his eyes close briefly

"Did I kill 'im?" he asks softly and suddenly I find myself alone with the answer.

"No Eliot, you didn't kill him. Paralyzed him though." The eyes close again before opening, a cold fire reflecting in the blue eyes

"I'm not sorry." He says and a collective gasp echoes behind me. I smile at the young specialist and scoot over to place a hand on the pillow above his head

"Why should you be? The man attacked you, tormented you for _years_. It's over now, he won't be able to come after you again." I state and for a moment a flash of fear and memory falls across his eyes but then it's gone.

"Is that Chinese food?" he asks suddenly and the remorse and sadness that had been flicker in his blue eyes suddenly disappears, replaced with the everyday look of Eliot Spencer. I know the signs of needed to sort through it and leave Eliot alone, turning around to look at the others

"Yes it is. Why? Do you want some?" I question, grabbing a box of Lo Mein and a fork.

"Starving." He remarks, trying to push himself up. A wince comes to his face and within a second Parker and Hardison are up, moving quickly to his side. Eliot allows them to help, asking about his injuries. Sophie pulls my arm and I look at the Grifter

"Nothing is going to be the same with him is it?" she asks, motherly eyes flashing sadly. I shake my head

"For the time being maybe not, but eventually he'll come back around. We just have to let him sort through this himself and be there for when he can't. That's all." I respond softly, knowing Eliot's recovery will be more than just physical.

I've been down that road, still going too.

"Oh and by the way, Nate saw you naked." I glance up sharply and glare at Hardison while Eliot shoots me a shocked look.

"Ohhhh there's gunna be trou-ble" Parker sings while Sophie tries to hold back a snicker.

"As soon as I can stand without aid Nate, you and I are going to have stern talk." Eliot snarls and I smile, knowing that the day that happens I won't be smiling but for now, the immobilized man doesn't pose much of a threat.

"Well, let me know when that day is Eliot so I can be out of town."

**Author Note: **Last chapter will be up next. Thank you to all those who have read and reviewed this story, I appreciate it and hope you all liked it. Next chapter will be up around the end of the week. Thanks again and please review!


	15. Chapter 15

**Title: **Decisions that I Make

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** Eliot is the silent enigma, always suspicious and secretive. But when he is injured by a mysterious attacker the group of thieves learns more about the enigmatic man.

**Author Note: **For all those who have been kind enough to read and review I have to give you all a very large thank you. I seriously don't think I could have finished this story without the goading of you kind people. Reviews are like the bread that keeps authors going and makes them want to continue going.

So, this is the end of this story but another has already begun. Thank you for reading and I appreciate it.

**Chapter 15: Loose Ends**

"Stop picking at them." I order, catching the thief picking at the scabs on his knuckles. Eliot jumps and glares at me, stilling his hands by flexing them on tops of the table, fingers splayed. I sit down in one of the other chairs, eying the other curiously. It's only been two weeks since the fight between Kim and Eliot and already the injured fighter is showing signs of restlessness. Still forced to use crutches to get around Eliot is becoming increasingly moody with the attention the others provide him with, growing angrier and angrier when someone tries to help.

He's feeling smothered.

I can understand that, I felt the same way after Sam died. Family and friends gathered around me and Maggie, treating us kindly. At every turn there was someone there, offering their assistance or their shoulder. It got maddening sometimes, which is partly why I turned to drinking; I realized that when I am drinking no one wants to bother me, so I used it as a shield to keep those do-gooders away.

Of course the other side effect is that I wasn't there for Maggie.

But that's another story.

Eliot shifts in the chair and leans back, his knee propped up on the chair beside him. I watch the man casually, worried about him. Three days after the fight Eliot was up and about, moving around the apartment on his own and basically threw the rest of us out, claiming that our jobs were done and we needed to go home. The others quickly left, scurrying away when the growling began but I lingered to watch the fighter hobble around his house, the clicking of the metal crutches louder without the chatter of the others to drown it out. He knew I was still there and proceeded to glare at me until I left for good, I had barely sat down on my couch when my cell phone rang, it was Eliot. The man had fallen trying to do something and although I could tell he was in a lot of pain and was fighting real hard not to ask I drove back over and helped him.

"So, looks like I'm staying huh?" I asked while hauling the shivering man up off the floor after tumbling down the stairs from the loft bedroom. Eliot only grunted but thanked me after I got him back to the couch.

"Any games on tonight?" I ask and Eliot frowns for a moment before tapping his fingers on the table top

"Bruins against Canada for the NHL, AHL is what use to be the Ice Cats against the Portland Pirates." He says and I nod, knowing the man doesn't care about football or any of the other sports, which why should he? Eliot's a 'close contact' kind of guy and the sport of hockey suits him I guess.

He seems to smile more during the on ice fights.

"Hey, got something I think you'd be interested in seeing." Hardison calls, coming around the corner with his opened lap top. Placing the electronic gently on the table he turns up the volume and spins it so both Eliot and I can see. A small video from CNN runs

"_Today Voctor Fayande was brought in on charges of human trafficking and drug smuggling. The arrest was made after the confession of Kim Pryor, a hit man who did jobs for Fayande. Pryor is hospitalized with major spinal cord injuries after a fight in a local bar, but he will also be in court to face sentencing for the multiple murders he committed at the request of Fayande." _ The video shows the short, portly man as he is hauled from his hotel in handcuffs and then a short clip of the massive man who Eliot nearly killed. I glance over at Eliot and find his face frozen in an expressionless mask. Slowly a hand comes up to brush away the long hair that's fallen foreword from behind his ear before slowly pushing himself away from the table. Grabbing his crutches the man hauls himself to his feet and hobbles away, muttering a soft 'thanks' to Hardison. He disappears out of sight and a moment later the sound of the door closing discloses where he went.

"I thought he'd be jumping for joy at knowing that this whack-job is going to jail." Hardison says, moving his finger across the mouse pad and shutting down the window. I nod and lean back

"I think he is Hardison, it just takes time for these things to sink in sometimes. Give him some time." That explanation seems good enough for the hacker and he heads out, saying something about continuing his battle. Left along in the conference room I smile and snort before standing and heading to my own office, passing by Eliot's closed door I slow down.

"Hey Sam, it's me." I hear and smile, knowing that Eliot is taking care of some long overdue business. Allowing the man his privacy I head for my own office and the online chess game I had paused.

**_-_- Later on that night -_-_**

The hockey game raged on, Eliot smiling viciously as one of the Pirates takes a swing at the Ice Cat who threw his stick at the other. Very riveting how these men manage to slug each other and not end up on their asses or slicing someone open with their skate. Eliot's knee is propped up on pillows on the coffee table and a mug of hot tea resting on his other thigh. I sit beside him on the couch, a bottle of beer in one hand and a slice of homemade pizza in the other. The buzzer for downstairs suddenly sounds and Eliot jumps, moving his knee from the pillows and hauling himself to his feet, a wince of pain crossing his features. I also stand and watch as the injured fighter, body alive with tension all a sudden as he gimps over to the comm.

"what?" he asks, southern drawl becoming more pronounced.

"It's us." Sophie's accented voice filters over the unit and the sounds of Parker and Hardison squabbling in the background. Eliot gives a sign and hits his head against the wall, his face pinched.

"Alright." He hits the door lock and then the switch on the lift. Within moments the lift roars to life and begins its staggering climb up. The arguing gets louder as the lift comes to a stop in front of the safety gate. Sophie rolls her eyes and pushes the safety back, stepping into the apartment. Eliot watches the others climb off from his leaning stance on his crutches, face impassive but a small frown tugging at his lips.

"So, here we are! We brought junk food!" Parker chimes happily producing a large tray of store bought cookies all lined up in neat rows. I can almost hear Eliot shudder at the sugary treats, the man rarely puts anything saturated with sugar in his house, never mind his mouth.

"We also brought two movies. I got Sweeny Todd and Wild Hogs." Hardison says, toeing off his shoes and heading for Eliot's kitchen. Parker quickly follows while Eliot moves slowly behind them, the crutches tapping away on the hard wood floor. Sophie turns to me and smiles gently, dark eyes filled with amusement.

"How's he doing?" she asks softly and I glance back, finding the fighter staring heatedly at the offensive cookie that was placed lovingly in front of him by Parker.

"I think he's getting better. It's just something that'll take time that's all. I'm sure if it was either of us we'd still be on edge and moody." I explain and Sophie snorts

"Eliot will always be edgy and moody." I agree with a nod and she gestures with her chin

"They suggested we come over, so here we are." She gives by way of explanation and I nod.

"It'll be good for him." She laughs softly and I turn, following her gaze to where Parker and Eliot are bickering about _something_. All I can understand is 'you promised' and 'no I didn't.' Finally Parker seems to give in and turns quickly, stalking off towards the far wall while Eliot watches her, realizing he's much to slow to catch her. Parker lifts the guitar off the wall and brings it back, presenting it to the specialist before looking at him expectantly. Eliot holds the instrument for a moment before finally nodding and handing it back to Parker.

"Alright, if I do this you'll stop bugging me right?" he asks, hobbling back to the couch from the counter. Parker follows close behind, her eyes alight with glee at finally getting the stubborn man to play. Eliot sits down on the couch and places the crutches on the floor before holding his hand out for the guitar. Parker hands it over before quickly sitting down on the arm of the couch. Hardison moves closer and slumps into the chair as Sophie and I stand in closer. Eliot strums for a few minutes before setting into a certain song

_I wear a greasy ball cap  
I like my shirt untucked  
I spend Saturdays working on my truck  
I don't like to fight  
But I ain't scared to bleed  
Most don't mess with a guy like me_

Parker closes her eyes as Eliot's suddenly smooth voice raises a bit over the clear strumming of the guitar. Hardison flips open his laptop and moves the webcam attached to the top to take in Eliot.

_'Cause guys like me drink too many beers on Friday after work  
Our best blue jeans have skoal rings  
We wear our boots to church  
So rough around the edges  
It's hard to believe  
That girls like you  
Love guys like me_

I can see the truth behind the song, seeing as Eliot isn't the poster child for the latest fashion and seems to always be in a pair of blue jeans. Sophie leans against the chair, her chin resting on her hands as she watches the strumming specialist

_Your daddy worked at the bank  
Mine worked on cars  
You went to college  
I pulled graveyard  
You must have had your pick  
Of all the trust fund types  
But you came back to me and only God knows why_

I wonder who he has sung this too? The words seem to fit the enigmatic man like a glove and from knowing that most of his relationships ended when he was gone for longer then a few days.

_Now there's a lot of guys like me out there  
In a lot of little towns  
And tellin' all our buddies, we won't ever settle down  
We say thats just the way we are and the way we'll always be  
So God sends girls like you for guys like me  
Thank God there's girls like you, for guys like me_

For being a small town man himself, Eliot is a jumble of skills and surprises. I know his early life probably wasn't the best and then the years he spent in the service was obviously what taught him what he knows. A jumble of information and ideas Eliot is a smart man, he just found a way to use his brawn as well as his brain to pull jobs.

A man of many talents and many surprises indeed.

Eliot finishes strumming and lifts the guitar from his knee, setting it down beside the couch. Parker smiles happily and claps like a young child at a gym presentation while Hardison saves the file on his hard drive.

"Wow Eliot, I'm impressed. Why didn't you become a singer?" Sophie asks, staring quizzically at the man and Eliot laughs

"I had better things to do, places to go and people to steal from." He answers and I can see the true answer behind the blue eyes.

"It's the freedom this type of work presents isn't it, the freedom of being able to make your own choices, not having to answer to anyone but yourself right?" I ask, watching the man closely. Eliot smiles, his head bowing and hair falling to cover his face

" A little yes, mostly it's the thrill of getting away with something very few people can. Just like the rest of you, you find it worthwhile to be on the wrong side. You all like the thrill of the con, the hard work put into making it work. We're all alike in that way… we just present it differently." He says, running a hand through his hair. We're all silent for a moment, each thinking about his words.

"So, what's this about you making pizza?" Hardison suddenly asks, noticing my forgotten slice on the table. Parker laughs and Sophie covers her mouth while Eliot only shakes his head

"Yeah, yeah. You come here and eat me out of house and home, ungrateful." He says, throwing a pillow at the hacker. I step back and watch the group I brought together toss pillows and mock insults back and forth, their shouts echoing in the apartment.

Eliot is right; we are all alike in some way, the thrill of being a thief bringing us together. I'm not going to deny it, helping people by stealing or revealing the crookedness of companies is a thrill for me.

Like a piece of a puzzle it all falls into place.

We need each other; we were all lonely in some way, but now as we all grow closer I can see how it doesn't hurt to be alone anymore.

Like a very dysfunctional family, a very dysfunctional family who gets their kicks from stealing and conning other people.

Gotta get your kicks somehow right?

I glare at Parker as the pillow thrown by her smacks me in the face, picking up the offending projectile and throwing it back. I laugh as Eliot deflects a thrown pillow by Hardison and watch as the life sparks behind the icy blue eyes.

He'll be fine.

He's among friends now.

End.

**Author Note: ** so, there ya go. Crappy ending I know but it is an ending none the less. Thank you again to all those who read and reviewed this, you guys are amazing. I appreciate it and would like to share good news with everyone: Leverage was signed another season, with 15 new episodes! So, be watching for that!

Thanks again!


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